A LETTER TO STELLA (now named Alex)

Good morning, Stella, uh, Alex

I received your latest letter with no return address.  You continue to read my blog, so this is how I'm answering you.  The people who read my blog will now get an updated glimpse into your unhealthy and crazy obsession with me.

Your pattern has been to contact me every few months for two years. I've blocked you from contacting me via email, phone, text, Facebook, and my blog.  You must have spent some time finding my home address. I now receive harassing mail from you every month or so with either phony or no return addresses. 

When you used stationary from your previous job as an "academic" at a Florida university, I reported that fact to your former employers.  I was confident they wouldn't appreciate a deranged former employee using their stationary to harass me.  They thanked me for reporting it and assured me it would not happen again. When you told me that "academics" hate people who self-publish, I had to laugh.  I undoubtedly need improvement in my writing style, but what I write is never dull!

Your theme remains consistent.  You continue to try to convince me that a long-dead former lover of mine didn't love me at all.  You continue to trash my essays and refer to yourself as an "academic" with superior writing skills.  You continue to reference your relationship with a long-dead man.  You continue to assert that he treated all his "mares," including me, the same way.

Well, dear Stella.  You can continue repeating yourself by writing such nonsense to me, or better yet, concentrate on improving your life by moving forward and not being obsessed with me. I do not care what you do.

Oh, I need to correct you on your rant about my travels to Machu Picchu and the Galapagos. You asserted that Jack liked to travel with women who had not experienced the world to impress them.  He did not take me to Machu Picchu or the Galapagos. (By the way, it's spelled "Galapagos" rather than "Galpagos"…I thought an "academic" might want to know.)  I had traveled to those places with my daughter.  I had gone to many places, either by myself or with friends, and lived in South Africa before I met him.  I would hardly describe myself as being impressed or "bamboozled" by our travels.  Perhaps you were projecting.

Contrary to your assertion that he and I were not partners, it is a fact that he and I lived together.  We were devoted to each other until his children interfered to the point where I couldn't deal with it anymore and moved out.  We continued to stay in contact and would periodically see each other.  We expressed our love for each other frequently, whether you liked it or not.  It was OUR story.  I really could care less how you want to spin our relationship or how it hurts you that you never lived with him and that he never loved you.  His deceased wife and I were the only women ever living with him.  None of the women you call "mares" lived with him.  Sorry, not sorry.

You sent the picture of the two of you.  I have no idea what you are trying to convey, as I was aware that you pushed Jack's wheelchair on a trip the two of you took toward the end of his life. Jack contacted me during your trip to complain about you and tell me how much he wished I was with him and that he loved me. As I mentioned, he had asked me to go, but I was in a new relationship.

You continue to call me a liar, and that I libeled you.  Your actual name is not stated in anything I've written. I've called you "Stella," but on second thought, I'm naming you "Alex" after the character in Fatal Attraction, who has a borderline personality disorder and starts stalking someone who broke up with her after a brief affair.  I believe you've transferred your feelings of abandonment to me.  Unfortunately, there's no cure for borderline personality, so I'm probably stuck with your comical letters until you finally leave this world.  

I realize I'm feeding your obsession with me by responding to your letter(s). Still, I've discovered that sending you a "cease-desist" letter via email, reporting your behavior to the university, and contacting the police do no good.  You are hell-bent on writing to me periodically.  I pity you.  What a miserable life you must be living.

You accused me of lying about my dating life and how I had once stated that I was through with dating.  Well, my dear, life is serendipitous, and I am open to the twists and turns of my love life.  I have gone through periods when I don't date, but I then meet someone who captures my attention.  Sometimes it lasts, and sometimes it doesn't.  And, in the final analysis, whether or not I'm in a relationship is not as important as it once was.  I enjoy my time alone.  I love writing, being involved with my community, and seeing my loved ones frequently.  I don't have to concern myself with the well-being of a man and can live my life as I please.  Having a partner is just the icing on the cake.

Again, I implore you to move on with whatever life you have left.  Your obsession with me is toxic.  We are both entering the final years of our lives.  We should spend it doing the things we love and being with the people who bring us joy.  At least, that's what I'm doing.  Please join me in the pursuit of happiness.

UPDATE:  It's now September 16, 2020.  I recently received another card criticizing my writing skills and telling me again that you will continue sending me letters and postcards because I accused you of stalking me in my book. You stated that all you did was ask me to have a drink after a performance in NYC.  Uh, Stella, aka Alex, how would you define sending me the same message every few weeks?  Let me see...would that be stalking, or how about harassment?  Okay, Alex, sorry I accused you of stalking.  Perhaps a lunatic harasser would be more accurate.  sigh  




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