Who Is GunDiva? The End

Betcha thought I'd never get around to the end of this little who am I?  Let's see, I started it to give you some insight to how I became who I am.  Finally, after eight million posts, I'm getting there and it may be a little anti-climactic.

Even though I went around armed all the time, I hadn't really committed myself to using that little gun.  I thought I could, but I didn't know  I could.

One day, the kids and I were on our way to a soccer game and we pulled into a McDonald's drive-thru for a rare treat (remember, broke single mother - McDonald's for dinner was like steak and lobster).  I had noticed a car had followed us off of the highway and into the drive-thru, but I didn't think a whole lot about it because everyone stops at that McDonald's.

I pulled up to the order box and noticed that the driver of the car behind us got out of the car and my heart stopped.  Crazy B sauntered up to my car as I looked around for an escape.  There was a line of cars in front of me and his car parked behind; there was no escape.  I yelled into the order box for them to call the police.  They answered with a "what?".  I yelled to call the police a second time and then turned toward Crazy B.

His stalking in the past had been a major annoyance, but I'd never been truly frightened until that moment.  In that split second, I flipped from thinking I could kill someone to knowing I could do it.  The problem was that since I was going to play in a soccer game, I left the Noisy Cricket at home.  I couldn't play with it strapped to my hip and I sure the hell wasn't going to leave it unsecured in my soccer bag on the sideline.

He tried talking to me and I calmly and clearly told him to leave me alone, then turned to the order box and very clearly stated that I was being stalked and that they needed to call the police.  I knew that they weren't going to do it if I was screaming hysterically at them, so I issued it as an order.  They still didn't do it.  (Too busy consulting their manager for permission, I suppose.  Oh, who am I kidding?  They didn't want to get involved.)

I became a broken record, refusing to get pulled into a conversation with Crazy B.  I just kept repeating that he needed to leave me alone and go away.  The kids were absolutely silent and, I'm sure, terrified. 

He finally turned and left, backing out of the drive-thru.  I placed my order and drove to the pay window, still shaken up, but managed to not kill the kid working the drive up for not calling the police.  I couldn't get out of there and to my game fast enough.  I made sure that he didn't follow us onto the highway as I sped off to my game.

Crazy B laid low for a few weeks before showing up at my front door (we'd moved and I hadn't forwarded anything, so he should not have known where I lived).  I met him at the door with the Noisy Cricket and told him on no uncertain terms that he would NOT be bothering me or the kids again and that the next time he showed up, I would kill him.  I meant it, and he knew I meant it.

In retrospect, he did me a favor by trapping me in the drive-thru.  He made me, in that moment, commit to defending myself.  Through that terrifying episode, he gave me the confidence I needed to protect myself and the heathi.