Quite a few years ago I was walking down the high street with a friend and he pointed out a man on the other side of the road, explaining that he used to play rugby with him. He was quite distinctive in the fact that he was very tall and well-built, sporting neat dreadlocks and had quite broad facial features. He instantly reminded me of a member of the New Zealand ‘All Blacks’ rugby team.
Since that moment, this man has appeared in my life frequently. He and his partner lived around the corner from our old house and he would leave his property at the same time every morning, so we often drove past him on the way to work. A few years ago he started to leave the house with a small child in tow, and then a little while later a second child followed.
When The Bloke and I made the decision to move house we booked a viewing for a property, and lo and behold this man and his partner turned up at the same time to look at the same house. We started talking and I made a joke about the amount of times we’ve seen him over the years, which quite understandably freaked him out a little. Neither of us liked the house, but I swapped numbers with his partner as they told us that their house would soon be vacant.
A little while later she contacted me to inform me that they’d found a property and she offered us the chance to have a look round their house before it went on the renting market. We did, thought it was lovely but a bit too small and left it at that.
Seven months later, after viewing quite a few properties, we found a house that we liked and moved in. The day after, I walked to the local shop to get some food, and who should be walking up the street? The same man. He said hello in a rather awkward fashion and continued on his way. The next day, I bumped into him again, this time as he went for a run. A week ago he was walking past our house. Today, he was walking past the local pub.
It turns out that we rented a house that is on the next road to his. It’s literally so close that I can see it from my own.
Poor guy – the situation is embarrassing now and every time I see him I want to stop him and explain that I’m not a stalker, but I fear that would make matters so much worse!
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I have to admit, your whole situation is a bit funny. But who knows, if it really bothers you maybe you should say something? (Or maybe he will, eventually.)
There was this guy in college, I swear we had every class together. We weren’t even in the same Fine Arts program. LOL…I used to wonder if he thought I was stalking him because it crossed my mind that he was stalking me. Funny how life is…
There is a reason for your interaction, I can guarantee thst one day you will need each other. I went to a carboot sale 400 miles away from my home, we were on holiday, I walk around and everytime I walked past this certain stall I felt that I knew the woman on it, she also watched me I musthave past at least 5 times and eventully I went over and asked why she was watching me and do we know each, she said everytime I past she was drawn to me, it was like a knot in her tummy and same with me, we talked for a while and swapped details, this was 3 years ago and we keep in touch when something happens, like we both dream about each other on the same night its almost astral projection. There is a field of thought saying we are all connected by a psychic thread and if its strong enough then there is a strong connection and a reason for it will become clear at some point.
In my experience, the people who say “I’m not a stalker” usually are, so you might choose different words 😉
it’s fate!!! maybe get them both over for a drink and laugh about it:)
There is definitely a reason for that! Nonetheless, it’s really funny 😛
I agree with Pete about there being a reason you see this man so often. Perhaps it is he that is the stalker.
hahaha… ohhh that’s funny!!!
Who’ll give in first? Someone’s got to say something. :)x
Thanks for sharing. I too have had very weird experiences in life. I have no answers for them other than that we all are destined to meet some people again and again.