Domestic violence double standard : Prime time : SunNews Video Gallery

Domestic violence double standard : Prime time : SunNews Video Gallery.


Dr. – Shows – Anger Intervention -Violenceagainst men

Dr. – Shows – Anger Intervention.

Why did the police treat my female stalker as a joke? Males are not treated with respect.

Why did the police treat my female stalker as a joke? | Mail Online

Crazed phone calls, sinister threats, vile sex slurs – so why did the police treat my female stalker as a joke?

By Pete Cashmore
Last updated at 8:19 AM on 20th January 2011

One summer evening in 2009 I was cycling home when I heard a voice shout out my name. Even before I looked, I knew who it was. A quick glance confirmed it, so I pedalled faster, past Somerfield, towards the street in which I live. To my horror, the person started sprinting after me.

As I reached the steps up to my front door, I could only stare in bewilderment as she came haring around the corner. Panic rushed over me as my key would not go in the lock and the distance between us began to shrink to a few yards. Thankfully, I got in just in time and slammed the door as she bounded up the steps.

It might sound melodramatic but I bent down and shouted through the letterbox, not for the first — or the last — time, that I was going to call the police.
Pursued: Pete Cashmore was stalked after a one night stand

Pursued: Pete Cashmore was stalked after a one night stand

You see, the woman in question was my stalker. Yes, that’s right, me — a strapping 6ft 3in, 37-year-old man. I have a female stalker called Karen, who also happens to be not altogether unattractive and in her early 40s.

If you find this notion rather risible — aren’t stalkers supposed to be pathetic lonely single men, forlornly loitering outside TV studios to catch a glimpse of their favourite female newsreader? — then you’re not alone.

Everybody seems to find it funny that I have been stalked for the best part of two years — my friends; casual acquaintances, who hear the S-word and chuckle without considering the stress that real stalking causes; and even the police.

Not all the police, but a significant few. When you have had a uniformed officer, to whom you are giving your first statement, suddenly crack up laughing at your plight (‘I’m really sorry, mate, but she sounds ­mental’), you start to wonder if that’s going to be a standard reaction.

I first met Karen at my local pub in summer 2008, when she recognised me as being a member of the same dating website as her. The second time I met her was the weekend after I had just split up with my then girlfriend, and I’d gone to the same pub to drown my sorrows. We got talking in more depth, she was down-to-earth, quirky and flirty, and in the time-honoured tradition of the Great British Rebound, we ended up in bed.

In the wee small hours of the next morning, I woke up and, through bleary eyes, saw a beatifically-grinning Karen tell me that she loved me. There and then, I had a tiny ­premonition of how bad things would get.

Frankly, I had no desire to see Karen again, certainly not after her declarations, but I did the classic man thing of ignoring her emails and texts rather than nipping it in the bud — a big mistake.

Read the rest of the story here.

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