Stalkers are really hard to figure out.

I remember a few girlfriends in high school that cheated on me. I ended the relationship and moved on. Some of them wanted me back and I told them to get lost.

I never felt the need to follow them around. Even the women that broke up with me. I figured if they didn't want me, well...me lurking around their house wasn't going to make them want me more. And seeing a better looking guy, with a better looking car, isn't going to make me feel better.

When this Yale lab technician, Raymond Clark, killed that woman (okay, okay...ALLEGEDLY)... a day before her wedding, you got to hear the usual stories. One girlfriend from high school said he told her who she could and couldn't talk to. And what outfits she should wear.

I then thought about the time I dated a girl in high school. We tried thinking of a Halloween costume we could do together. Since she was in drama and in a few of the plays, she wanted to do a character she had played. But that didn't leave room for me, as I wasn't a drama geek. I thought it would be cool for us to be Hugh Hefner and a Playboy bunny. She was attractive enough to pull it off (she even became Miss Mira Mesa). And I...well, I just liked the idea of wearing a robe and slippers to school. With a pipe dangling from my mouth, and a Playboy dangling from my pocket.

I wonder now if she tells people I was controlling, since we argued about that for days (she won out, being Lady Dracula for the second year in a row). I was Elvis.

I loved the friends of Raymond, who had the usual cliches about him being the nicest guy and how they can't imagine him doing this.

Nobody can ever imagine their friends or family doing bad things. Who do they think do all these horrible things? The Manson family? Sorry, they're all locked up (and dying of brain cancer and stuff).

I had a friend from high school who I caught up with a few years ago. He seemed to be doing well in life. He owned a big home, had a great job. It was a long way from his days in high school, where he was always getting into fights, and occasionally committing crimes.

Yet I noticed he always talked about passed girlfriends. And he was obsessed with them. I told him it wasn't healthy, and he said that he gets in a routine when he's dating a woman, and he hates the routine to be broken. But once he's in a new relationship, he stops worrying about the previous ones.

Apparently, that's what this Yale guy did. He threatened his high school girlfriend, and scared her enough that police and escorts were involved on campus. But once he got into a new relationship, he moved on.

When this friend of mine talked about the few times he was taking a shower and his girlfriend looked at his computer, it made him furious. It was as if the story happened the previous day, but it was something from a year earlier. He then asked if my locksmith friend could help him break into her apartment.

My jaw dropped. I said, "You're joking, right?" He said, "Uh...no. But I don't want to steal anything. I just want to look at her computer, and see if she's dating a new guy." He said that I could sit in the car, so I wouldn't get into trouble if the cops came. Oh...I would have to look out for the landlord.

After a few seconds of awkward silence I said, "Dude...do you realize that we could all go to jail? And all because, you are obsessed with your old girlfriend and if she's dating someone else?"

He then went into this tirade about all he did for her. He bought her son a fishing pole. He gave her roses that she never thanked him for. He then speculated that she's dating her boss.

He told me how one time she lied and got a restraining order against him, even though he didn't do anything to warrant it. He said he just showed up at her apartment and kept knocking on the door, because he knew she was in there. He could "hear her on the phone with her sister."

I remembered that time, when I put him in touch with my lawyer friend, who spent 45 minutes advising him on what to do. He took none of the free advise she offered.

I finally told him he needed pyschiatric help. And of course, he flipped his lid, and started telling me I was the one that needed help. He said, "I've seen your office. You've got papers everywhere. And your car. It's a mess." I laughed, saying "There's a big difference between someone that has a messy desk and can be a slob. The mess on my desk isn't fearing about what I'll do next to it."

I think that statement is what ended our friendship. And I wondered...did any of his other friends ever tell him he was crazy? I know his brother used to support him on these rants. It was almost like a football coach working the team into a frenzy, so they get out on the field and want to kill the opponent. I would rather family and friends tell their siblings when they're off base, instead of just always agreeing with every bizarre idea they have.

In San Francisco the other day, I heard about a stalker that took things to new heights.

Huey (come on, is there a more stalkerish name than "Huey"? Okay, Raymond might be a close second), had a restraining order last year, brought on by his ex-girlfriend.

I guess he figured if he flew his plane low enough over her house, that wouldn't qualify.

But after several low passes in a residential neighborhood, a dozen residents complained to police. And he was arrested after landing the single-engine plane.

I guess this guy doesn't have it as bad as the person at Hastings Law School. One of my lawyer friends was going there in the 'frisco area (on a side note: people living in San Fran hate when you call it "frisco").

A woman had broken up with the guy and he called her up and told her to look out the window. She did, and saw him tied to a bridge, lighting himself on fire. As sad as that is...I wish more people would harm themselves instead of the women they're stalking.

Maybe things would've been different for him if he had a pilots license.