ßüякε;2480396 said:
Maybe I should just fake my own death.
My suggestion? A little bullfighting "olé" may be your best option. Put on your matador hat and get ready for this.
Find a guy -- preferrably someone you don't care too much for -- who is not entirely horrid but desperate for some Maldini. That shouldn't be too hard.
The delicate part of the situation is pulling off the bait-and-switch. The goal is to get psycho bitch and your Saddam Hussein double hooked up, leaving you to slink away.
Your guy is going to be roadkill. He's going to look like Joe Thiesmann's leg after an LT raping. But that's part of the collateral damage of this equation. Sacrifices must be made to the god of stalking. He gets to deflect things to become the object of her obsession, she toys with him for a while, and then she leaves him for dead when she gets over it.
The key here is that you cannot make it seem like you are rejecting her. The more you send that signal, the more that her homing device has its crosshairs set on your nutsack.
Burritos in San Fran are like pizza in Chicago, like rice in China, like curry in India, like cirrhosis in Ireland. You don't mess around with pretenders.