Sexual Relationships 
Sexual Health 
I met an escort last Tuesday. After a friendly chat on various topics including dating, sex, morality, life, personality, family, etc., she offered to come to my place on Friday with the intention for sex. Though I looked forward to the sex, I remained ambivalent to the idea of having sex with someone I have just met. A voice in me said I am overanalysing things. Having a one-off sex with a hot escort is no big deal.
The night before Friday she rang me to have my house address. Suddenly she started talking how she is having feelings for me. I felt flattered but took it as a casual flattery to inflame my sexual appetite for her.
I picked her up at the train station on Friday. En route to my place, she said she is hungry. I bought her lunch, which we took to my place. She ate her lunch in my living room. An hour and half later we had sex, after which she started talking how I'm different from the guys she has been with. "How different", I asked.
Among other things, she said I didn't fall over her as soon we got into my apartment as some guys do. That I gave her a tour of my apartment; I allowed her to seat in the comfort of my living room. She said I showed interest in knowing her experiences of the escort business, and how I was concerned about her personal safety in the escort business.
She then started sweet-talking me about my body (muscular arms, chest, etc.), skin tone and colour, and wanted to know what I do to stay fit and the type of body lotion I use. She seems to be relishing her physical presence with me as if to suggest I'm all she ever wanted in life. "Unfortunately, I'm not the right guy for you", were the words I wordlessly said to myself as she curled her arms around my neck and trailed her slender fingers across my shoulders, biceps, chest, etc. In fact, I did enjoy this brief moment despite my pretentious charade.
She proceeded to analyse the interior decor of my apartment, saying I have a pristine and zen-like surrounding, which she claimed reflects my dressing style and personality. She made a passing comment how she would like to have a place like mine.
She summarised her analysis with a question: "can I come and live with you?", which I interpreted as a rhetorical question or flattery remark. Upon living my apartment she said she doesn't feel like leaving but she has to because she needs to pick up her son from school. She said she would like to see me again, which I vaguely agreed.
I wasn't expecting a call from her but later that Friday she called four times of which I responded to one, and told her I'm busy. On Saturday, she kept calling and texting to the point I had to block her number. Realising I have blocked her number, she used whatsapp to ring my number, which I also blocked. So I thought that was the end of it.
On Monday after a grueling 8.7 mile run under a sweltering hot weather, I opened the main door to my apartment and shockingly find her seated on the stairwell. I calmly opened and quickly shut my apartment door without giving her any eye contact. I took out my phone from my pocket, and saw two strange missed calls, which I suspected it's probably from her. I immediately blocked the numbers.
She started yelling and pleading I should open the door for and talk to her. She continued to ring my doorbell and banging on my door non-stop. For almost three hours she continued banging on my apartment including living room and bedroom windows. Through out this incidence I did not say a word to her as I struggled to come to terms with her uncanny behaviour.
I stood still in my living room, still catching my breath from my afternoon run; I could feel and hear my heart beating faster. I felt frightened and confused. My tired legs unable to sustain my weary and sweaty body, I laid flat on the floor contemplating what to do.
She started shoving her items—eyeliner, mascara, lipstick, hand gel, and hand cream—through my door mailbox as she continued yelling she would not leave until I talk to her. She then proceeded with throwing stones and shoving food packaging, and used-tissues through my door mailbox and the upper window pane of my living room.
I quickly closed all windows and curtains. I reached for my phone to call the police and then paused to gather my thought to think through my words carefully. I realised I don't even know her surname and where she lives. All I know about her is she is a 24-year-old woman who has a five-year-old son; her father passed away in 2015 and she has an estranged relationship with her mum. I have known her only in 7 days.
I pondered over her behaviour, wondering whether I am dealing with a psychotic woman who is now making me feel unsafe in my own home. Suddenly, it dawn on me I am dealing with a potentially stalking situation. I then googled the word "stalking", and stumbled on a stalking website for help. I realised my composure through out this incidence including blocking all contacts with her are some of the recommendations provided by the stalking helpline charity website. In addition, it recommends keeping records of every incidence.
I took pictures of the items and stones shoved through my door mail box, and then wore kitchen gloves to clear the rubbish items from the floor, and have them stored in a plastic bag as evidence to support my query with the police if she shows up near my apartment again.
Have you ever been stalked? How did you deal with it?
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