Does stalker deserve second chance?

I don’t know if I should write about this. It’s very real and kind of creepy, so if that kind of stuff turns you off, you should look away now.
Bars are full of all kinds of people, not the least of whom are lonely singles. Years ago, when I had just opened, I struck up a conversation with a lonely, balding single guy who worked up north. It was an interesting conversation, but was peppered with phrases like, “I’m good at what I do and they pay me well to do it.” or, “I’m not big, but you don’t want to make me mad.” At one point, he looked at me meaningfully and said, “Oh no.” This two-syllable utterance marked the beginning of a terrible and unusual chapter in the history of BiBO.
Over the course of days and weeks, this individual would come in almost daily. Brad dubbed him,”Mr. tight jeans.” and wouldn’t leave if they happened to be there at the same time. The guy was creepy. He would always tip in cash from some wadded up bills in his pocket and try to touch my hand while trying to pass me an extra five dollar bill. I would tell him eventually just to put it down on the bar.
He spoke in a very quiet voice which I discovered was an attempt to make me come lean in closer. I started to tell him to speak up. He asked a lot of very personal questions which I managed to evade and never failed to expound on his personal philosophy about the male/female dynamic.
It went like this: All women want a man who can pay for everything… a man to do all the unpleasant household chores and repairs and to basically be the ‘knight in shining armour’.
This upset me and one night I said so. I welcomed him to the twenty-first century where most women I know have their own homes for which they pay and if any work needs to be done, they can hire any number of professionals to do the job. I said, maybe women were looking for a person who shared the same morals and had common interests. Someone smart and funny and kind that didn’t get on a person’s nerves. I said that I thought the human dynamic was a little more complicated than what he insisted. Needless to say, he left the bar with his opinion unchanged.
That night, as I left work (late) I noticed a grey truck in the adjacent parking lot. Now, I grew up in a bit of a tough neighbourhood and I’m naturally suspicious, so I kept my eye on the truck as I started my almost brand new car. Oddly, the low tire pressure light was on and I know that it hadn’t been on when I parked. I eyed the truck and decided I would rather drive on my rims than get out to check the tires. Instead, I drove very slowly down the alleyway until I was out of sight of the truck and I floored it to the end of the alley. Then I turned and floored it to the four-way stop, turned away from home and floored it out of sight. (told you – paranoid.)
It was late in the year and all the air hoses had been put away so i had to take my car to the dealership to check the tire. The service manager came out looking perplexed and said, “It’s not like you drove over something and picked it up.” he said, “somebody screwed a screw into your tire.”
My mind went back to the Knight in Shining Armour conversation, but I couldn’t be sure the stalker dudie was guilty. We hadn’t talked about changing tires.
Later in the spring, the bar had been broken into after hours and stalker dudie came by to “make sure i was ok.” He asked what happened and I explained that some crackhead had tried to break in, but my friend who lived above the bar had heard the commotion and thrown a bottle of Pellegrino out the window, hitting the guy and scaring him away. “Oh.” said stalker dudie, “He saved you.” I became sarcastic because I hadn’t been there during the break in and said, “Yeah, he saved me.” To which the stalker dudie replied, “Oh right. YOu’re the girl who wouldn’t need help changing a tire.”… My instinct screamed at me that he was the culprit, so that’s what I believe.
Another weird thing about the guy was his habit of sitting down at the bar, ordering a drink, uttering a giant-sized sigh and sliding off the bench to head to the bathroom. He’d usually do this big sigh/bathroom trip a couple of times per visit and I had never really thought much about it until one day, putting stock away in the bathroom which had a curtained off wall behind which we stored toilet paper and paper towels and stuff. Everyone thought for years that we had a shower in there! Anyway, I noticed a clear, crusty stain on the fabric just below waist height. Pulling the velvet curtain into the light I could see the fabric was lined with stains all the way along on both sides. (horror.)
I told everyone at the restaurant. One of the chefs said I had to rub fiberglass all over the curtain and the other one suggested I make a reduction of birdseye chilis to spray on the fabric. So, that’s what I did. Religiously. Every day, until he came back in, I soaked that fabric with a reduced birds-eye chilli and water mixture.
The next time stalker dudie came in he ordered a glass of wine, sighed heavily and headed to the bathroom. He came out after a time, sat down in an uncomfortable manner and then claimed to have forgotten he had to ‘be somewhere’ and asked for his bill. I tried to dilly-dally a bit, but relented and he paid the bill and left. The next day we replaced the curtains.
I didn’t see him for a long time after that, He’d show up intermittently, but the bar only got busier and busier and we moved the bathroom (no more curtains) and he came around less and less and finally, thankfully, not at all.
Until last week. He showed up alone on a busy friday. He was his usual awkward self and left while it was still busy. Alas, he came in on saturday night with the sweetest couple you could meet and bought them drinks for a couple of hours. I thought, maybe he’d changed, but twice he reached over the bar to touch my shoulder instead of saying, you know,’excuse me’ to get my attention. I resisted the urge to slap him because his guests were so nice.
Do people change? Are our instincts fallible? What would you do?
Stay tuned.

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