Wednesday, May 27, 2009

Customer Disservice

Every woman who's ever held any type of service or sales job knows about one of the major inherent hazards associated with their chosen profession.

Namely, the unavoidable encounters with creepy fucking dudes.

Fortunately, most men today possess enough intelligence to realize women employed in the sales / service industry act in a pleasant manner simply because everyone in that type of postion has to in order to make a living.

Because that's their fucking job.

They would like you to buy something.

They would like to earn a nice tip.

They represent the face of their employer.

But then you have the skeevy, lecherous, bottom-dwelling jackasses who simply don't understand this phenomenon.

The instant you smile or make prolonged eye contact with one of these pathetic assclowns in your working environment, they are absolutely convinced, for whatever reason, that you are somehow in love with them.

That your smile somehow reveals a crush. Or the way you stood next to him when you tried to sell him that new cellphone obviously meant you wanted to fuck him. Or because the real estate agent took that extra time to show a bedroom, she of course was implying that she wanted to have sex with him in that bedroom.

I'll give you another example.

I used to work in a scummy industry, and my boss epitomized the rancid, fecal crust that rose to the top of his trade. We'll call him Lee.

Lee would prostitute his own mother if he could figure out a way to get three dollars out of it. He easily made mid-six figures a year, but he was so cheap he wore the same ratty, wrinkled, off-white oxford shirt with yellow pit stains on it every day for weeks on end.

He never tipped at restaurants, but always provided female waitresses with his signature punchline: "If you're wondering where your tip is, it's in the price of the food."

And then he'd smile at her, waiting for her to smile back, because he thought his little punchline was pretty cute. Then, as promised, he'd leave her nothing.

He was morbidly obese, and he also regularly paid some back-alley bodychopper to plug dead horsehair into his forehead until his hairline looked like something you might use to scrape lichen off a barn.

So at some point, Lee began mouthing off about a certain barista that "kept hitting on him." When I was offered the opportunity to help him pick up a large order, I decided to go along to see what kind of near-blind, socially inept female buffoon worked at this coffee stand.

She was a beautiful, but very shy, girl in her early 20's.

And she was fucking terrified of Lee. I could see it in her eyes.

But she smiled nervously as Lee kept telling her she had "luscious legs" or "lovely breasts," simply because she needed to keep her job. She was too afraid to tell Lee to go fuck himself.

"Didn't you see the way she smiles at me?" he asked after we left.

Two weeks later, the owner banned Lee from the coffee shop.

Go figure.

And all Lee could talk about at work was how that manager had totally ruined his chances of fucking this hot teenage chick that was "totally into him."

"I'll find her," he'd say, "and I bet you she'll be blowing me within 5 minutes."

You're absolutely right, Lee. Because beautiful 20 year-old college girls always fall for fat, cheap, balding 50 year-old fuckstains who wear the same shirt for 14 days in a row.

You ignorant ass.

Kate writes in to PLFM with a similar story, but in her case, her "client" stepped over the line when he started contacting Kate at home.

Kate works at a small biotech lab located on the campus of her local university. Kate's company specializes in DNA sequencing and bacteria analysis for a number of other local labs.

Kate had a longtime client named Rick who frequently came in to Kate's lab to drop off samples for his company. She was always friendly with Rick, simply because part of her job entailed maintaining profitable relationships with her roster of clients.

But off the record, Kate wasn't fond of Rick. He tended to act like a braying ass when any opportunity to do so presented itself.

Kate explains:

"He's the type of guy who always wants to be the "white knight," riding in and saving the damsel in distress. He once offered to go an beat up the mechanic of a co-worker of his when they, in Rick's view, overcharged her for car repairs."

We all know exactly what you're talking about Kate.

He's the macho, small-cocked blowhard keen on making empty threats of physical violence towards others to "impress" and "protect" the ladies.

Let's all yawn as a group, shall we?

Kate knew Rick had a wife and two kids, and Rick knew that Kate had a long-term live-in boyfriend with whom she had a son and shared a farm.

But at some point, these factors suddenly became irrelevant to Rick.

Rick began stopping by Kate's office every time he came into her company's headquarters. He'd sit around and hit on Kate, and Kate was cordial at best simply because she had to be. Kate also noticed that Rick began to remove his wedding ring as he entered her office.

Rick's efforts got him nowhere however, so he began asking Kate out to lunch.

He'd ask her on Monday, and she would politely say "no." He'd ask her out on Tuesday, and she'd politely say "no" again.

Utilizing the "Can I have a cookie?" process employed by cunning six year-olds worldwide, Rick continued asking Kate out to lunch, figuring Kate would eventually crack under the pressure and agree to have lunch with him.

No dice.

Kate stood her ground.

Rick then reached deep into his arsenal of tired seduction tricks and found the "backrub routine" sandwiched between his fake Ferrari key and his "I'm a movie producer" line.

Kate's desk faced away from her door, so she never saw Rick coming until his hands were already massaging her shoulders. Completely disgusted, Kate organized an office-wide threat-level program whereby all of the other employees began alerting Kate the minute Rick walked in the door.

When the system failed, she finally took her issues with Rick to the boss.

The boss had to have a private and direct conversation with Rick, instructing him to not make any further attempts to date or harass the employees of his company, and by "employees" he specifically meant "Kate."

A few weeks later, Kate was sitting at home at 9 PM on a Wednesday night when her phone rang.

It was Rick.

Somehow, he had located Kate's home phone number. She does not know how.

Rick wanted to know if Kate would like to meet up with him "for coffee" later that night. And by "coffee," he meant "sexual intercourse." On a Wednesday. At 9 PM. And he lived over an hour away from Kate.

Kate had had enough at this point. She lost her cordial attitude, and gave Rick a fucking earful, saying in as many words .....

"Do not EVER fucking call me at home, Rick. Do not ever contact me again outside of work. Ever!"

Now, as a common, puny, and worthless man, even I would get the hint at this point that, hmmm, maybe this Kate girl doesn't have any interest in me?

Let's look at the evidence.

1. Rick hits on Kate, and she routinely shows no interest.

2. Rick asks Kate out to lunch repeatedly, and she refuses every time.

3. She practically pukes when he tries to give her shoulder massages.

4. Her boss intervenes and instructs Rick to have no further contact with Kate.

5. He ignores that advice, and violates her privacy by somehow acquiring her home phone number.

6. He calls her at home, where she lives with her boyfriend and son, to ask her out for coffee.

7. She tells him in no uncertain terms to go fuck himself.

You think maybe Rick would get the hint?

Well, he wouldn't be on PLFM if he did.

Kate went back to work the next day only to find the following email in her inbox.

From Rick, of course.

Take it away, Romeo.

Hello cutie,

I know you told me not to contact you outside of work, so I'm sending this to your work address. That makes it work related, right? :)

If you haven't guessed by now, I really dig you. The highlight of my week is droping off DNA to your lab, and I would love to make a more direct deposit.

I would treat you like a queen. My wife would never know. We're on the rocks anyway. I'm only staying with her because of the girls. She doesn't satisfy me in bed, the way I know you would with your tight little body.

You figure into my dreams nightly. It's the only satisfaction I get these days.

Let me know when you want to spend a night or more in heaven.


What Rick didn't know is that by emailing Kate, he also emailed the entire lab, so everyone got a gander at Rick's final overtures to Kate.

And I say "final" because this is the exact same email Kate used against Rick to obtain a restraining order. If Rick decides to ask Kate out to lunch again, he will now have to yell his question from a distance of at least 1000 feet.

Now, this story may not involve knives to the throat, death threats, or the well-barbequed kittens my readers have developed such a fine taste for.

But I printed this story for a reason.

The weekend prior, this exact topic came up amongst a large group of my female friends twice. And each time, the women were falling all over themselves with horrible stories of dealing with deviant, sometimes psychotic, and often stalkerish behavior from clients and / or customers.

Represented were waitresses, bartenders, real estate agents, saleswomen, baristas, and advertising executives.

PLFM wants to hear YOUR story in the comments, because we know you have them.

Reader Survey

Alright guys, we have a very important question to throw at you today.

PLFM now receives nearly 75 "Letters From Men" submissions a week. Unfortunately, about 90% of the stories I receive do NOT have letters, texts or emails included. It is simply stories submitted by women relating their experiences with stalkers. And some of them are horrifying.

Would you guys like to drop the written correspondence requirement for PLFM?

In other words, do you guys just want to hear stalker stories, or would you prefer PLFM stick to our namesake and require at least some written material from the stalker / psycho?

Let me know. I could care less either way, I just want you guys to keep coming back to PLFM! Please comment.

-The Weasel

Tuesday, May 19, 2009

Game Stalker

"I think every woman who sends these to you realizes how stupid they were and, hopefully, learns from their mistakes." - Nicole

Nicole acknowledges right off the bat that most people might consider her a "bit of a nerd".

Rather than spending her evenings drinking herself comatose at nightclubs or rotting away her cerebral cortex in front of network television programming, Nicole admits she fell in love with the online gaming community at a rather young age.

While Nicole feels online gaming established her presence in the nerd community, her participation in LARPing events cemented it.

LARP stands for Live Action Role Play, and describes an event where online gaming enthusiasts congregate in a remote forest to dress up in elaborate period costumes and re-enact their most recent online battles. If you're looking for people who utilize wizardry and swordplay, LARPing events are fantastic. If you're looking for people who utilize deodorant and condoms, try Rite-Aid.

Nicole met a nice young man named Brian at one of these LARPing events two years ago. Nicole knew Brian from high school, and always thought he had been a pretty cool guy. Brian had a very charming sense of humor, and they shared quite a few similar interests aside from LARPing and online gaming.

Needless to say, they soon found themselves playing with each other's joysticks. Nicole and Brian began dating, and all seemed blissful in the real world.

At least for a minute or two.

Brian's personality suddenly began to change right after they committed to one another. Brian began showing little signs of a "controlling" personality. He would frequently "break up" with Nicole when he didn't get his way, but would always call her two days later blubbering like baby because he missed her so much.

Nicole was lonely so she proceeded cautiously, realizing Brian's caustic behavior and lack of employment could possibly indicate a sign of bad things to come.

Meanwhile, the rest of Nicole's personal life fell apart. The last of her old high school friends had finally left town, and she was living at home while ensconced in a very tumultuous relationship with her mother. Nicole was anxious to leave town as well, until Nicole's father suddenly passed away.

At his point, Nicole felt Brian was the only "rock" she had left in her life. When Nicole received an unexpected inheritance from her father, the unemployed Brian suddenly came up with a brilliant idea to help Nicole get away from her mother.

Nicole should use the inheritance money to pay for an apartment for her and Brian!

That way Nicole could get away from her mother, and Brian would have a place to, you know, like, live and stuff.

Great idea, Brian.

Glad you thought of it.

You ass.

Nicole was hesitant to move in with the possessive Brian, but at the time she felt she had very few other options. She had no friends left in town, no family to turn to, and a job she wanted to keep. She finally agreed to sign a lease for a new apartment, on the condition that Brian get a job. Brian agreed, and Nicole was relieved.

Then, in a completely shocking turn of events, Brian didn't get a job.

He looked everywhere for work, including the bottom of beer cans, the inside of empty potato chip packages, and the interior of Nicole's reproductive system, which soon banned him from the premises.

But it's not like Brian didn't do anything. In fact, he kept himself quite busy.

He spent countless hours reminding Nicole of her faults, insulting her hobbies, and following her around the apartment to remind her just how lucky she was to have Brian in her life.

Nicole felt trapped in her own apartment. When she tried to break up with Brian, Brian would scream at her and refuse to leave her side until she relented and agreed to stay with him. If she tried to leave the apartment, Brian would follow her outside and stand in front of her car.

Two words, Nicole: Gas pedal.

Despite Nicole paying all the rent and all the bills, Brian then informed Nicole that his old friend John would be coming to live in the apartment for a month. Nicole bit her tongue, but I tell you, she was absolutely furious!

Until of course the very handsome John showed up, at which point she released her tongue, which proceeded to roll down the front steps and into the driveway, revealing the words "Welcome John!"

John was in the Navy and stationed in Hawaii, but had decided to come home to Illinois on his month off to catch up with friends. He was extremely attractive, intelligent, funny and very successful. And unlike Brian, John took a sincere interest in Nicole's hobbies.

Brian finally did get a job, so John would drop Brian off at work in the morning and spend the day with Nicole. He took her to the park and to the zoo, and they spent countless hours talking about the things Nicole enjoyed talking about. He was kind, supportive and understanding, and even helped Nicole run her errands, something Brian never did.

It didn't take too long for Brian to smell something foul, and this time it wasn't his boxers.

Suspecting something was up, Brian told John to find a hotel. But Nicole had noticed something interesting about Brian and John. Namely, Brian felt threatened by John, and would never stand up to him. So when Brian threw John out of the house, Nicole left with John. Touche!

At the hotel, Nicole confessed to John that she needed help getting away from Brian. John agreed to help, and stood by Nicole as she called Brian and dumped his bitch ass over the phone. Brian threatened Nicole, so Nicole had a police escort meet her at her apartment to gather her things.

John eventually left, and Brian had his ass thrown into the street.

With John gone, Brian began to up the ante. Now out on his own, he continually harassed Nicole with texts and phone phone calls asking her if they could just "be friends." Nicole relented a few times, but Brian would immediately begin insulting her and telling her how worthless she was.

Nicole eventually cut off all contact, which, as we all know here at PLFM, is just throwing fuel on the fire. Brian began showing up at Nicole's home and her job, and soon enough Nicole had to be escorted to her car every night after work.

Meanwhile, John confessed his feelings for Nicole and bought her a plane ticket to fly up to Seattle to meet him for her birthday. Nicole couldn't have been happier, until Brian hacked her email account and found out about their little rendezvous.

Suddenly, all her online accounts disappeared. Her MySpace, her World of Warcraft and her blogs all mysteriously vanished. On the morning of her flight to Seattle, she came out to find the tires on her car flattened.

Nicole made her flight to Seattle, where she spent several blissful days with John. Blissful only because they both had turned their phones off, which rang continuously for the entire duration of their trip with calls and texts from Brian.

Once home, Nicole found an email in her inbox from Brian. Remember, at this point, neither John nor Nicole want anything to do with Brian at all.

Yet, Brian can't seem to understand why they won't let him "help" them. Hmmmm.

Hit it, Brian!

72 hours.

For 72 hours I sat and waited hoping to talk to you both about our future.

168 hours I waited and avoided proof this wasn’t an attention issue. And For 72 hours since that point I have tried nothing but to simply discuss our futures with you both.

I’m through trying to address this and be patient for a bunch of lying cowards. Ask yourselves what are you afraid of?

John, you always wanted any girl my dick got hard near. And Nicole I knew from day one I wouldn’t be able to keep you with so many ‘friends’ who were boys. In reality the only reason I became your boyfriend is cause I could touch you.

You both are pretty fucked in the heads either mentally, socially or even spiritually. This stupid childish game you were playing with me is over. Your entire relationship is based on a physical desire and ease of money.
(Ed note: God Forbid!)

So I’m going to laugh in a few years when I hear about or run into one of you two knowing what the future already plans for you. Neither one of you are going to have any friends besides one another … and that is all it will take to know this will crumble to ash.

So by all means continue your little game, you won’t hear me call even one more single time not even in an emergency not even in a crisis. Nor will I answer you calls. Your both heartless, soulless people and in the end you brought this on yourselves. Well sucks to be you guys...

Goodbye and good riddance.

Good luck in life, though I seriously hope you both crash, burn, fail and never recover.

Thank God!

They won't ever hear from Brian again. Ever!

Unfortunately, in Brian's world, "forever" meant somewhere between 5 and 7 minutes.

A barrage of texts and phone calls from Brian ensued as soon as Nicole got home.

Nicole went to the courthouse and requested an immediate restraining order against Brian.

Nicole went in front of the judge two weeks later with Brian to extend the restraining order, lugging with her a mountain of evidence against Brian. Brian was "the hapless victim," he told the judge.


He hacked my email accounts.


No, I didn't!

Which, fortunately, kind of contradicted the email Brian had sent Nicole:

I am sorry to hack your accounts but the subject matter there was totally inappropriate.

What part of John's pictures in your Myspace do you think harmless? Maybe the post where you thought i drained your tire (I didn't by the way) Or maybe John's discussion (again in public) about how he wasn't regretting a thing?

In essence the only way to understand you since you returned was to look at those blogs and pictures... I would of waited longer for certain and swallowed my pride for a 3rd time till i saw those. It might not of been fair to you but it was fair to us (you & me). At least everything you lost is recoverable, I can't say the same myself.

The point of your blogs was to vent about me and like always keeping private matters public with your friends. So I just returned that tactic with our friends and gave them my story.

I really wished you both had been mature enough to see what your actions were doing to the entire circle of friends we had. I wish even now I could 'hate' you both for what you did instead I have to give you the reasons to hate 'me'. which is close enough I guess.

Oh, and just so you know... I did cry even hacking your account. I know you want to be loved for who you are, but Nicole; theirs so much more to yourself you could improve and be that much of a better 'you' for it.

Boy, did the judge enjoy that irony!

First Brian says he didn't hack into her accounts, then Nicole produces an email where Brian apologizes for ... hacking into her accounts. Why, it was almost like Brian was lying to the judge or something.

The judge was so amused, he slapped a one year restraining order on Brian's ass and warned him under no uncertain terms that if he ever contacted Nicole again, he would go directly to jail.

Thank God, this case is finally over.

Oh, sorry.

This case isn't over.

Brian began harassing Nicole online through World of Warcraft events. He would create different online screen names and pour his heart out to Nicole, begging to have her come back. Nicole called the police, who came to her home and explained that they couldn't prove it was actually Brian making contact with Nicole through the computer.

But they could prove it was Brian if Brian had done something as stupid as call Nicole on her cellphone. And, as if on cue, Brian called her cellphone. The police officer answered the phone and Brian hung up. After the police officer left, Brian called Nicole's cellphone again, and left a message asking Nicole if she had seen his messages online.

Nicole turned the message over to her local police department, but for whatever reason, the police didn't act on Brian's violation of the restraining order.

Which brings us full circle to the present, where we find John and Nicole living happily together in Hawaii.

But Brian is not through with either of them.

He continues to harass Nicole online, whilst simultaneously sending letters of "apology" to John, in which he asks John to speak to Nicole for him.

Brian is also leaving voicemails on Nicole's cellphone in Hawaii.

And just so you know, Brian, recordings of those messages are currently on the way to the police station in your hometown.

Make sure you answer your door.

You'll learn someday.

Monday, May 11, 2009

The Pest

We've had a tough couple weeks here at PLFM, haven't we?

We've showcased some absolutely insane stalkers, a few creepy lurkers, and a pathologically obsessed bodybuilder who tried to woo his ex-girlfriend back by documenting his recent accomplishments in the transportation of hay, stones, and other farm products.

So today, PLFM has decided to offer up some lighter fare; a zesty appetizer of assclown if you will, sprinkled with the pungent odor of desperation. A long simmering dish of cluelessness, now served directly into the face of the chef.

This is the tale of one of those guys.

The guy from your distant past that just never gives up on you, no matter how many times you express your complete indifference to his proposals.

He's a Hare Krishna camping next to your vagina, yet knocking on your door every morning just to remind you he's still camping on your lawn, just in case you change your mind.

Simply put, he's The Pest.

Lets fumigate our crotches, shall we?

Lea moved from rural Oregon to Southern California when she was 12 years of age. Once Lea arrived in her new neighborhood, she decided to make as many friends as possible to ease her transition into the Southern California lifestyle.

Lea first befriended a boy up the street named Matt. Matt seemed a little socially awkward, but he had a great collection of video games to play with, and a very nice swimming pool to lazily waste away the hot summer afternoons.

Even at 12, Lea realized Matt had a controlling and bossy personality. In fact, Matt was hellbent on teaching Lea about the two most important things in life.

First, Lea needed to accept Jesus Christ as her Lord and Saviour. Only Jesus could lead Lea to happiness, and only by following His word would Lea would be accepted into Heaven. Lea needed to be saved, and Matt would willingly assist Lea in accepting Jesus Christ.

Secondly, Lea needed give Matt a blowjob.

Proving once again that you can never beat the creamy combination of religious fervor and sloppy blowjobs. It's the peanut butter and chocolate of the religious right.

Lea found it odd that the path to Jesus Christ traveled directly through the kittenish and marble-smooth testicles of a 12 year-old boy in San Diego, California. Not convinced, Lea instead agreed to a committed relationship with Matt, which of course at 12 years-old lasts about as long as pudding on a stick.

Matt told Lea they had to french kiss in the pool to christen their new romance. Lea tried, and nearly choked to death after swallowing a large amount of chlorinated pool water.

Disgusted, Lea broke up with Matt and stormed off into the sunset completely disgusted at the sudden collapse of their relationship, totally frustrated at the sexual imbalances already creating havoc in her life, and longing for someone to replace the most magnificent relationship she had ever experienced in her 12 years of life. How could she possibly ever forget her deep and lasting love for Matthew?

Three minutes later she saw a frog and completely forgot about Matthew.

Lea tried to avoid Matt from that point forward. She walked home from school a different way every day for weeks, until one day Matt caught up with her. He begged her to come back to his house, and Lea steadfastly refused. Matt persisted until Lea had finally had enough. She told Matthew that if Matt kept bugging her, Lea would get her cousin to beat Matthew up.

Matt went home and told his parents that Lea had threatened her. Matthew's parents came over to Lea's house with Matthew to talk to Lea's parents, and according to Lea, her parents "laughed Matthew's parents out of the house" in a flurry of Bible pages.

Lea didn't see much of Matthew again until high school, when Matthew took a job as a tech helper for the high school drama department, where Lea had taken an active role in producing school plays.

Now, at this point in the story, we must discuss an important discovery Lea had made in her early high school years. You see, Lea, a female, and the author of this blog, a male, have one thing very much in common. Namely, when we desire a snack, we both immediately reach for a refreshing box of Vagina Chex.

Lea is a lesbian. A term which women decipher as "I don't like the cock," and a term which men immediately decipher as "Threesome!"

Lea never hid her sexuality, nor did she promote it. She simply admitted it, which in high school is the equivalent of wearing a hardhat with a 90 foot neon sign affixed to the tip with an arrow pointing to Lea's face, saying "The girl directly underneath this hardhat is totally lesbo-tronic!" whilst a tornado siren blared Sarah McLachlan tunes from her backpack. Essentially, everyone knew Lea was a lesbian, including Matt.

After one particular play wrapped, Lea decided to throw a wrap party at her home. It was the typical high school affair; keg on the porch, music blaring throughout the night, and half-naked teens running around flaunting their tight and limber bodies, oblivious to the eventual scourge of time. Assholes.

Anyway, at one point during the party, Lea became involved in a saucy game of spin the bottle. One thing led to another, and somehow Lea ended up taking her shirt off and exposing her breasts to the entire party, causing an immediate explosion of 16 year-old male erections that was heard across 14 neighboring counties.

The hardest erection sprouted from the loins of Matthew, who suddenly had developed a very non-Christian view of the world.

Matthew simply never forgot this glorious moment in his life. It was if he had seen the coming of Jesus Christ, though I doubt Jesus was truly the one coming.

Matthew once again began to hound Lea constantly. In fact, let Lea explain how bad it got:

"For the next two years of high school he constantly worked on all the plays and asked everyone (and I mean EVERYONE) if they knew when there was going to be another one of 'Lea's cast parties'. This would be said in a nasally voice and followed up with a leer and a weird half-assed wink."

Matthew followed Lea everywhere, inquiring about her activities and, of course, the well-being of her breasts. Matt would corner Lea and demand to know when she had people over. He insisted on invitations to her get-togethers, even though Lea made it very clear that Matt creeped her the fuck out. But Matt just never got it. He talked endlessly about "that night when Lea showed her breasts," and told everybody that Lea was his "ex-girlfriend."

Which was true, for about 23 minutes 5 years earlier. But throughout the remainder of her high school years, Matt just couldn't let go of "the night." Clearly, it was the highlight of his life.

Lea was relieved to get away from Matthew when she finally graduated from high school, and eventually she forgot about him.

Until five years later.

Lea was perusing her Facebook page when she noticed she had a friend request. Lea clicked on the request, and found Matthew's shit-eating grin staring her in the face. Lea mulled it over for a while, and decided "he'd been an awkward teenage boy pimply with hormones back then. He couldn't possibly still be such a creep now."

Lea accepted Matt's friend request, and figured if there was ever any correspondence between them, he'd probably just be upfront and apologize for his foolish, stalkerish, and silly behavior when they were kids, right?

No, that annoying buzzer sound you just heard was not your oven.

Matt immediately sent Lea a Facebook email congratulating her on her 21st birthday, and offered to take her out for a drink. Lea thanked Matt, but reminded him it was actually her 22nd birthday, but sure, if she was ever back in San Diego, maybe she'd meet him for a drink. She never for a minute actually considered taking him up on it.

Which led to the following exchange via Facebook:


hell yeah i will take u for a drink i was just getting off work but i will take u out anytime hottie.


Sorry Matt, maybe you misunderstood. I live with my girlfriend in Oakland, and I meant like a friendly hang out drink. You know I'm gay right? :)


well... ill tell ya what... ill hook up a night where we get a group up and ill let u kno and u come down with some of ur hottie chicka friends and we will all go downtown k? maybe sometime in Aug on a Fri night. :) sound good?


Thanks Matt, we'll see. I'm not really much for the club scene, though. You have fun without me.


ok well maybe we can hang out when u come down in august, and if u have the money i can hook u up with a car stereo from my work. :)

Strange, in that Lea never said anything about coming down in August, nor did she mention she was in the market for the latest in discounted mobile electronics.

Creeped out once again, Lea figured she'd just avoid Matthew from now on, but didn't need to be rude and actually delete him from her Facebook account.

August came and went, but a year later Lea actually did put together a trip to San Diego.

Unfortunately, she posted her intention to travel to San Diego on her Facebook page, forgetting that Matthew would be able to see it.

Matthew immediately sent Lea an email, telling her that "she owed him a drink," which was a strange reversal from his earlier request to buy her a drink. Lea didn't respond, so Matthew began to barrage Lea with emails, including a link to cheap Sea World tickets. Because even lesbians like dolphins!

"We should totally go!" he said.

"Totally not!" thought Lea.

Matthew then caught Lea off-guard one night on Facebook chat, which led to the following creepy exchange saturated with what you and I might refer to as "the willies."


what's up? hey im starting my model photography again. thought of you and your sexy body. if ur ever wanting some photos done let me know. its not like i havent seen that body of urs. lol.


Umm...No. That's a little weird of you to ask, to be honest. Good luck with that, though.


lol what the modeling or the modeling with me behind the camera. lol no worries, ur attractive and i thought to extend the invatation

why is it wierd ?

Lea didn't respond that night, so the next morning she woke up to this:


common u had no problem with taking of ur top in high school


so what is it or r u just going to ignore me ? i thought we were friends even tho i am ur ex?

"So I wrote back, incensed and creeped right the hell out," says Lea.


Hmm well, it might be one of a couple things:

a) I am all for being friendly and I wasn't going to say anything until you did this, but let's be real here; you and I are not friends by any means. I invited you to like ONE cast party in high school that EVERYONE got invited to, and you made creepy remarks for years afterward. And I am certainly not your ex. We hung out for a stressful week or so when we were 12 that wasn't fun for me at all. Or did you somehow forget that we NEVER hung out and I ignored you all through high school? If you ever even saw my 'body', you need to get over it because it was MORE THAN SIX YEARS AGO and I'm an adult now, not some dumb little drunk teenager. We should BOTH be adults by now.

b)Why would you even think I'd be into that? I had no idea you even liked photography because, once again, we ARE NOT friends. I'm not a model. And if I wanted pictures of me taken, don't you think I could probably get my GIRLFRIEND (yeah, that would be the girl I'm kissing in all of the pictures of me) or one of my friends or, god forbid, a real professional photographer who wouldn't ogle my 'sexy body' to do it? Here's a protip: real photographers don't pan facebook for their clients and then pressure them when they refuse. Find someone you actually know or maybe someone who, I don't know, LIVES there?

The point? I don't know you, you SO don't know me and it is INSANELY creepy and weird to assume I'd be okay with you offering to take pictures of my 'sexy body' just because you saw my tits like once in high school. Grow up, buy a dictionary and look up the word 'oblivious'.

"I haven't heard from him since," says Lea. "He deleted himself off of my friends list and I can only hope he maybe, somehow, some way, learned something from this interaction, even if it was just 'don't fuck with dykes'."

Well said, Lea, and congratulations for finally ridding yourself of a lifelong creeper.

Do you have a guy that's been pursuing you forever and just can't take the hint?

Put it in the comments, or even better, send it in along with all your other bizarre or psychotic correspondence to PLFM at

"Love Story" Update

I received 93 emails over the weekend regarding our Ben Ryan video posted down below.

Many people claimed to know both parties involved, and I had some difficulty in ascertaining who exactly was telling the truth and who wasn't. I very quickly realized I had become embroiled in a situation I wanted absolutely no part of.

I will keep my sources confidential, but I can tell you with utmost confidence that Loren will never offer any sort of reply to Ben's video, and rightfully so. You do the simple math and figure out what that means.

I was then contacted by "Sanchez", a regular poster on the message boards. Sanchez had produced a video mocking Ben's video tribute to his ex-girlfriend, and once Ben discovered the Sanchez version, Ben went absolutely fucking ballistic.

What followed was a series of completely unintelligible and insane threats and rantings from Ben directed at Sanchez. Ben accuses his critics of being "terrorists" and "Arabs" using "bio-warfare" to kill people, amongst hundreds of other ludicrous suggestions usually reserved for paranoid schizophrenics.

He has "armies of lawyers" immediately boarding planes "to take care of" all his critics, who will burn in hell for mocking Ben.

Ben also has the backing of the CIA and the FBI, just in case you were wondering.

As I told Sanchez in one of my emails, I caution the clueless little ninnies on YouTube who think this video is "cute", because they have no idea who they are dealing with.

I hope they take a moment to remember how "cute" they thought that video was when he is stabbing a screwdriver into your cat's anus because he didn't like the fucking surface temperature of his pineapple slices.

I'd sincerely like to thank Sanchez on for his valuable input, and if you'd like to follow his dealings with Ben, you can start right here.

You'll find over 47 pages of commentary on Ben, along with his bizarre, constant, and very mentally disturbing emails.

Be very careful, Loren.

I feel for you.


Wednesday, May 6, 2009

A Love Story? PLFM Doesn't Think So

Ladies and gentleman, allow me to completely waste 8 minutes of your life.

If only you can stomach what I'm about to show you.

Either you will think this is cute, or, more likely, your vagina will dehydrate to the consistency of astronaut food.

You see, Ben Ryan used to have a girlfriend.

Two fucking years ago.

Ben's girlfriend left him for reasons "he can't understand," which means she essentially abandoned him.

Now, if Ben can't understand why she left him, then that means he likely didn't cheat on her, because unless he was a total idiot, then he would understand why she left him.

So let's rule that out.

So now, why would a woman just abandon her boyfriend if he wasn't cheating on her?

Well, he either:

a. was a complete fucking assclam.
b. was a needy little boy.


c. was unemployed.

Ben spent the past two years pursuing this ex-girlfriend.

She has not responded to any of his attempts at reconciliation, nor has she sought him out.

So Ben put together a little video to win her back.

Actually, it's not a little video, it's a long video, towards the end of which I had to extract my head from a hastily constructed noose hung from my chandelier.

We'll let Ben explain his video, entitled "Love Story":

“Love Story”

Genuine real life love story of one man’s journey through time as he gives his all for one chance at a dream. Entirely filmed, produced, and directed by the man you see and him alone over the course of nine months.

I believe the person I made this video for is living somewhere with her family and I truly hope they are all happy and doing well. I made this video to present on youtube because it was the only way I felt I could reach out to her to let her know how I still feel.

Everyone should fully respect her privacy and wishes because I don’t know how she views me now after all this time. We were together for two years and I don’t know why for certain she was gone. I sincerely only want her to be happy even if that means me being out of her life. She is an awesome person who deserves the very best and I just hope she is able to see this.

Got it?

Nice enough.

Now here's the video that took him nine months to produce.

If you have any tortilla chips, please prepare them now, because this video is fucking dripping with cheese.

Now, I understand the end where he says "You must always tell people you love them blah, blah, blah" ... and I totally agree.

But is an exhibition of one's four-wheeling skills set amidst various semi-nude feats of strength really how a man thinks he can win a woman back? Is that what women miss? Is it a man's well-seasoned ability to bunny-hop through tires and transport rocks? Do they miss bun-splitting slacks and weight-lifting leotards?

Well, he's well built, but he was that way when they were dating, and she still left him. It certainly won't make her come back.

And it didn't.

At the end of the video, you may have missed the pop-up, so here it is again:

"Loren has seen this though I haven't heard from her. So I truly hope she is happy and living her dreams."

My guess?

Loren would completely expect something like this from Ben, whom she has been actively avoiding for two years.

And this video is exactly why.

He's a cheesy, arrogant and dickless buffoon completely unreceptive to the real-life needs of a woman, and this video couldn't be any more symbolic of why she left him in the first place.

If he still can't understand why she left him two years ago, he either hasn't thought about it much, or more likely, doesn't think there is anything wrong with him that finely tuned set of deltoids can't cure.

It's been two years, Ben. Get over it and move on.

She knows you love her, and apparently doesn't care enough to respond.

Life isn't like "Say Anything," where if you just harass a girl enough, she'll eventually come back to you because it's cute that you care enough to stalk her. If we learn anything on PLFM, we learn that stalking isn't "cute" or "charming" in any way.

Women leave men for a reason, and that reason doesn't go away with an elegantly prepared song-and-dance number.

Sure, I might be making assumptions here, but I guarantee you I'm right.

Please agree or disagree in the comments.

In the off chance anyone out there knows or can contact Loren, please email me at I'd love to see if she would share her side of the story.

Saturday, May 2, 2009

He Just Doesn't Get It

A monkey trapped in a desolate cage marvels at the sight of a shiny metallic ball placed just outside his reach.

"If I only had that ball," the monkey convinces himself, "my life would improve tremendously."

Place the ball within reach, and the monkey instantly grabs and cherishes that ball. It's new, it's shiny, and it's something different, a means to temporarily escape from the horrifying monotony of his life.

Within a couple days however, the monkey will usually discover that the ball doesn't look so fucking shiny anymore. He's run out of new ball-related distractions, and the sparkling surface has dulled from constant contact with his hands.

Now he's just a monkey trapped in a desolate cage with a stupid cloudy-ass ball.

As humans, we all experience a sense of loneliness and isolation at some point in our lives. In recent years, the internet has become our go-to method to relieve these feelings of isolation, a source for us to find our own shiny little ball.

And like the monkey, we often learn just how quickly our balls can tarnish.

Pun completely intended.

Annie's recent letter to PLFM started out like so many of the contributions I receive here at WWHM Headquarters.

"Oh, this story is so embarrassing to tell, but I was ... well, ... I was reallllly really lonely."

Annie, trying to meet new people on the internet does not make you lonely, it makes you human. Having a 10-year subscription to Cat Fancy magazine? Well, yes, that kind of makes you a lonely person.

And if you're using the internet to meet cats, then you have a serious fucking problem.

Anyway, Annie had been visiting an online forum for some time when she met a nice man named Robert.

Robert seemed to have everything she wanted in a man. He was nice, considerate and charming, and didn't spend the majority of his time online wagging his genitals to and fro like an unattended fire hose.

Annie admits she became smitten with Robert immediately. A few late night chat sessions soon morphed into something of a relationship. They chatted daily, and exchanged phone numbers so they could text each other when they were away from their computers.

After a month their relationship reached the point where they knew someone had to take the next step, but they lived halfway across the country from one another. And of course, Robert stepped up to the plate.

Annie was excited to play with her shiny new ball.

Robert made the long drive to spend five days with Annie, and Annie had a fabulous time. They walked in the park, went out to dinner, and probably visited the please-touch aquarium exhibit. Hands were held, asses were slapped, and non fruit-based juices were exchanged.

Yes, everything was just fine and fucking dandy with Annie and Robert.

Robert returned home and the online relationship continued. Robert, however, began talking about getting married, having kids, and buying a house together, which Annie thought was a little odd after only meeting each other once. It had been a great 30 days, but marriage? Kids? Mortgage? It almost sounded like Robert loved Annie, but come on, that's preposterous.

"I love you Annie," beamed Robert.

Okay, maybe not so preposterous.

A few days later Robert purchased Annie a plane ticket to come visit him for five days, and once again they had a good time together, minus the part where Robert kept bringing up all his "crazy" ex-girlfriends. At the end of the trip, Robert proposed that they become an "item" and agree to see each other exclusively.

Annie was a little puzzled as they lived halfway across the country from one another, and she really didn't believe in long-distance relationships. She reluctantly agreed because she liked him, and Robert was elated.

In fact, Robert was so elated, he immediately did what any guy would do in that situation. He logged onto Annie's Facebook page and began sending her friends unsolicited messages, such as: "Thanks for being such a good friend to Annie."

Creepy? Maybe.

Intrusive? Definitely.

Ball? Not so fucking shiny anymore, folks.

The tone of his Facebook messages wasn't at all friendly. He wasn't actually thanking her friends for being nice, it was more of a "Hey thanks, but you're really not needed anymore" kind of thank you.

Robert soon turned passive-aggressive and controlling. His cute little texts turned into interrogation sessions. Who was Annie with and why? What was she doing?

He demanded to meet her parents, and harassed her friends online. No matter how much he could find out about Annie, it was never quite enough.

So he bought another plane ticket to come see Annie.

A one-way ticket. Yay!

They had to "go look at rings" and "plan his move to her hometown" he said.

Soon after Robert arrived, Robert's juvenile antics started driving Annie crazy. She writes "I began to see Robert as clingy, controlling, needy, and honestly ... a pussy."

Vaginas everywhere were offended.

Annie quickly prepared for "the talk." Couch pillows were fluffed as lines were rehearsed, and Annie called Robert into the living room to inform him that he was no longer welcome at her home, and would have to leave first thing in the morning.

Robert reacted by vomiting on her couch, which pretty much negated the purpose of her earlier pillow-fluffing.

Fresh out of vomit, Robert began to cry, and continued crying throughout the entire night. Sobbing, actually. Annie couldn't believe what she saw. "His reaction to the end of a relationship that had been at the most two months long and mostly phone-based made me tell him to nut the fuck up and get over it," Annie says.

Robert left in the morning after insisting she keep his Army dog tags as a symbol of his undying love for her.

Fresh out of Kleenex, steam-cleaning coupons, and boyfriends, Annie decided to try another go-around with her ex-boyfriend Mike, whom she loved deeply. Mike and Annie began their relationship anew, but this time around they had a new, unexpected problem.


In his first week back home, Robert sent Annie 65 emails, 317 text messages, 52 phone calls, and even contemplated FedEx-ing Annie some fresh vomit. At first Annie tried playing the nice card, explaining she had reunited with Mike and was no longer interested in having any contact with Robert.

"That's ok," Robert said, "I'll fight for you."

He didn't get it, obviously.

The texts started increasing in frequency, blowing up her cell phone 24 hours a day. Her boyfriend Mike composed an email for Robert, telling him in no uncertain terms that he was entering dangerous territory and needed to stop all communications. To which he responded with more texts professing his undying love for Annie.

In between bouts of abusing his T-Mobile "Friends and Family" texting privileges, Robert began posting rambling essays about his love for Annie on the internet forum where they met, letting everyone know Annie was just "confused about her love life," and soon would figure it all out. But in the meantime, Robert was still planning his big move to Annie's hometown, where he would be welcomed by a huge parade.

A huge parade of lawyers and police officers that is, organized by Annie herself.

Annie and Mike's relationship was blossoming, and Robert was really getting angry now, as somewhat evidenced by the following text:

Robert: "I'm really getting angry now."

But Robert still planned to move, so Annie consulted her lawyers, who instructed Annie to block all communications from Robert and refuse all his texts and phone calls. If that didn't work, it was time for a restraining order.

She did, but Robert's incessant and threatening texts only increased to the point where Annie decided to finally answer one of his phone calls.

She told Robert he was a complete fucking psychopath, and needed to immediately cease all communications with her or a restraining order would be filed immediately at the court house. She made it very clear to him:

"Leave me the fuck alone."

Now, longtime PLFM readers pretty much know by now what happens when you threaten a stalker with a restraining order.

They write you another letter to tell you how they feel about you, of course.

And that is exactly what Robert did.

Let's see if Robert finally got the message, shall we?

(Hint: No.)

My dearest Annie,

So I realized that I couldn't just keep lobbing things over the fence wondering where they were landing - or if they were even noticed. I had to tell you directly how I feel and give you a chance to respond.

Right or wrong, the simple fact is that I'm still very much in love with you. And much as I don't want to feel frightened about the future right now, it doesn't change how I feel about YOU... realistically, I don't want it to change. Having gone through all the expected emotions regarding this entire situation - fear, sadness, grief, anger, acceptance - I'm still left with one emotion that won't let go: love. I adore you, and you know it.

This has never happened to me. If this was a normal situation, I would have gotten pissed, called you names out loud and in my head, let that consume the love I have for you and simply gotten on with it. But this is anything but a normal situation.

I see that the two of us are very much in tune with each other. You said I understand you. It's true, I really do. And the events of the past few weeks notwithstanding, there isn't a fiber in my being that doesn't feel as though you're the girl I always wanted. Like I said before, it's that good. I love everything about you, hon, and there ain't much that's gonna change that.

I know what you're trying to do. I applaud your efforts. I don't think it'll work. You've read my thoughts on the situation. But I think there's a part of you that wants all the things we talked about so many times, wants the good things that we developed together, things that I very much want. And put quite simply, I want those things - with you.

So trust me when I say that I will 100% be be your guy when you're ready. We packed a year's worth of relationship stuff into a very short period of time and I'll be damned if I don't think that's something worth waiting - and, if necessary - fighting for. I miss you. I miss making love to you.

All I can offer you is more - much more - of the same things you expressed so much appreciation for when were friends, when we were lovers... when you could love me openly. That offer still stands, baby. I want you back.

Now I know that the idea of me moving to (city) really threw you for a loop, but there's a lot more to it than I had a chance to explain. I've long wanted to shoot for a position with (company in city).

You don't have to push me away to get the space you need to work on the things you need to work on, nor should it be necessary for you to push me away because Mike can't handle it. If I can deal with Mike, Mike should be able to deal with me.

Did I mention that I love you? :) Have I ever failed to mention that? Nope. Never will.

You are NEVER not on my mind.


You know, something tells me Robert just doesn't get the big picture here.

And as you can see, stalkers just really don't see anything wrong with what they're doing.

Annie wants us to know she is still dealing with Robert, who still texts her on occasion, and writes about how much he wants to hate Annie on his fantastic blog. "But he just can't," he says, "because he loves her so much.

Hey Robert?

Get a fucking life.

PLFM will keep you updated if we hear more from Annie.