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August 22, 2007 / Maleesha Kovnesky

The Cheesecake Stalker

My blog is currently locked down; I’m not sure when I will un-block it, and again show it to the public…but let’s just say I have kind of a little bit of a stalker problem (to put it mildly).  Just another sad case of someone with a life that just isn’t going his way.  Po’, suicidal nutcase.  And the whole topic has me thinking about creeps and other sorts of ass-munches.

Now lots of ladies I know have had stalker issues in their life.  I have had two previous experiences.  One was an out-of-control control freak, a high school idiot, who liked to park in front of my house and call me and say “Nice orange shirt with white stripes on it.”  That was a little freaky, because I would actually be wearing an orange shirt with stripes on it, and I would look out the window and not see anyone.  He would leave roses in my car, my locked car, and there would be no indication as to how he got in.  If anyone knows lock secrets to a 1981 Tercel, let me know…I’ve always wondered about that.

But the best stalker by far, one who really contributed to a mildly freaky, yet amusing, time of my life, is definitely the Cheesecake Stalker.  Let’s call him Che’ for carpal tunnel’s sake.

Che’ was a longtime employee of the company that I had just started working for in Washington DC.  Che’ resembles ‘Comic Book Guy’ from the Simpsons.  He was one of those archetypal “SCA” guys who was big into medieval stuff, Renaissance festivals, that kind of thing.  Che’ was the kind of guy who, if he had a turkey leg in his hand with grease dripping down his arm, and a sheathed sword on his belt, yet he was standing near the entrace to a subway, would look right smack-dab in his element.

Che’ was in the office kitty-corner from mine.  He used to arrive at work around noon.  Lots of times Che’ would get “talkings to” because the dress code was something ol’ Che’ really couldn’t wrap his mind around…God love ’em, there were probably too many Doritos bags in there.  For the first several months I worked in that office, Che’ was listening. 

One day, my office mate and I, being women, discussed how much we really needed some chocolate.  It must have been a passionate conversation, because apparently it made an impact on someone (Che’).  I’m sure we talked about how at that moment, on whatever day it was, we would gladly give the President’s left arm for some type of cocoa-infused bit of goodness. 

The next day I checked my mail slot to find a small, angular package of Toblerone.

Now if you’re anything like me (at the time) you’ve seen Toblerone on the shelf, but assumed it was some kind of sausage.  But now I had one in my hand!  I read the ingredients.  Chocolate.  Goodness.  Yes!

I didn’t really stop to think about where the Toblerone had come from.  I guess I just assumed that I had sent out a message to the universe, a message that I was requiring chocolate, and a fancy, heaven-sent Toblerone had simply materialized right there in my mail slot.

That is, until Che’ passed me in the hallway later and said “Hey, did you like your Toblerone?”

Oh, shit.

“That was you?” I asked.  “Geez, thanks.  I really liked it. ”

Che’:  “Well, I happened to overhear you and your office mate discussing your impending desire for chocolaty goodness.” (He actually talked like this)

I say:  “Toblerone, eh?  Never had one before.”

<This is where Che’ is aghast, and begins citing the best chocolate sources on the planet.  Somewhere between Switzerland and Belgium, I start thinking about last night’s Survivor…>

The next day, Che’ pokes his head into my office and informs me that he has baked his famous Triple Chocolate Cheesecake for me the night before.  Said cheesecake is currently in the office kitchenette.

Oh, double shit.

I thank him, and say “Oh, well I hope you don’t mind if I share it with the whole floor…I can’t eat a whole cheesecake by myself.”  (Note:  I probably could, if I wanted to.  This is not the point.)

Che’ looks a little hurt. 

Later he overhears my office talking about the hit movie (that just came out at the time) Office Space.

I get an e-mail a couple of days later from Che’.  It informs me that he “has viewed my recommendation of the film Office Space and he found many comparable situations between our office and the fictional Initech.”  He then proceeds to list who in Office Space would be in our office.  I, for example, am the Jennifer Aniston character.  He, of course, is Ron Livingston.

You know, the couple.

I laugh in my e-mail (lol) and say, “funny, I never would have made that connection.”

Over the next month or so, Che’ invites me to movies, outings, and even the Kennedy Center for a New Year’s Eve symphony.  Dammit.  I am forced to tell him that, while flattering, I just don’t want to date him.

Che’ is suddenly offended.  “Why?” he asks. 

I am tempted to blame the Comic Book Guy resemblance.  Instead I take the high road, and list our differences that I have picked up on over the months.

“Che’,” I say.  “You hate the military.  I was in the Marines.  You hate cats.  I don’t care much for dogs.  You get in to work around noon.  I get in about six AM.  Do you see where this is going, Che’?”

<insert tumbleweed>

Thankfully, I am moved offsite to a hellish project, but it is a welcome break from Che’.  I am offsite for five months.  At no time during this five months do I see Che’.  Che’ does not cross my mind.  I am Che’ free.

Then the project has a budget cut.  I am getting sent back to the office.  Yet I don’t think about the implications of this until I see Che’ in the hallway.  Then the memory of the Triple Cheesecake enters my mind, and I can only hope that he has found another female to hound.

No such luck.  A couple hours later, Che’ is in my office.  I no longer have an office mate, so he is free to launch into his diatribe.  He says:

“I know that you said we shouldn’t date because it would never work.  But I’ve been thinking about you a lot.  I look at your website, and I see you and your friends on there, and I feel sad that I am not a part of your life…”

Ugh, oh, the creepiness.

“…and I want to change that.  <Insert corny lines about him changing himself here>  So, with your permission, I would like to begin courting you.”

If I had been sipping a beverage, this is the point where the beverage would come splattering out with the Flllllllllpppppppp sound.  Uh, courting?  Did I come back to work in a different century? 

I politely tell him “hell, no.”  Che’ gives me a wistful look and slowly leaves the office, looking back at me from ‘neath those Coke-bottles and tells me “We will be together.  One day.”

Then I went to my manager and told him that if for some reason I didn’t come into work for a couple days in a row in the near future, to please check all drainage ditches and that Che’ did it. 

And that is the story of the Cheesecake Stalker.



Leave a Comment
  1. ianthealy / Sep 13 2007 11:44 am

    The title of this post would make a fabulous novel.


  2. cherikooka / Aug 22 2007 2:28 pm

    Ahhhh…I had a guy leave a rose in my locked car once! Ultra-creepy! So, what ever happened with Che’? Did he ever go away? Does he read this blog?


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