Whenever they air Rocky at the Mayfair, they get a live cast to choreograph the musical scenes...so of course every character is played by a local freak in a costume. I happened to be sporting my natty I Hate Jocks shirt, and (because she knew the guy who made the patch I'd stitched onto it to make it my "I Hate Jocks" shirt) I ended up talking to the girl who was playing Magenta. We chatted for all of two minutes before the movie started...and for whatever reason, she walked away with the impression that I was (shockingly);

• truly interesting,
• cute,
• and worth meeting again.

There were, however, two problems... the dilemma that she was too shy to give me her name or number, and of course the fact that I was never seen again.
As a sort of half-joke and idle statement, she mentioned to her friends that they should circulate "Wanted posters" with my general description on them, and since they were a happy and energetic lot of freaks, this seemed inspired and useful, so it was in fact precisely what they did.
They got permission from the owner of a local punk/goth shop, Savannah Deville's (now sadly out of business), to plaster the joint with the posters, and hand out smaller versions with receipts.

One of my friends walked in during her circuit of punk-ass places to be downtown, and recognized the description on the posters. She left the owner my e-mail address, who got in touch with me and asked if I might perchance be the very same purple-haired goon who so enchanted her associate on Hallowe'en.
And I sort of supposed I was.
Over the next few days, people I'd never met stopped me in corridors at Carleton to ask me if I'd been to Savannah's recently, and eventually someone intercepted me just to give me my very own copies of the posters themselves. I suppose other people might have every reason to find the situation really quite disturbing...
Except that, well, my ego is freaking huge.

The next big step was to give my stalker a phone call. I suppose there are those who are killed and eaten by their obsessive fans, but I was at least quite fortunate to meet a lovely young woman named Lilith, though in passing I'll quite often just refer to her as "The stalker" because I basically like reminding people that I'm phenomenally cool.

In the end, I'm really so very glad I got the chance to meet Lilith. I don't know many people who are smarter or more interesting to talk to than she is. Maybe in some parallel universe, she's gotten around to entombing my dismembered corpse in the basement, but in this one we actually just have a friendship that constantly grows closer and weirder the more we talk.