My friend Ethan arrived home at his poky second-floor apartment one evening, exhausted after several hours of teaching. After he unlocked the door, kicked off his shoes and staggered into the living room, much to his surprise he discovered one of his students, a nurse, waiting for him on the sofa. A surprising development after a mundane day in an English conversation school.
The obsessive woman had been pursuing Ethan for quite a while, booking lessons with him as often as possible, and persistently hanging around outside the school. Finally, she had somehow got hold of his address and broken into his flat after climbing onto his balcony. This was an audacious invasion of privacy, behaviour which could be legitimately branded as stalking.
Thoughts raced through Ethan’s mind when he laid eyes on the crazy woman, sat there smiling at him suggestively. What should he do? Throw her out into the street or try to talk to her? Notify his superiors at work, or call the police and seek a restraining order?
He shagged her.
Now it’s fair to say that this was an unorthodox course of action, and surely not one that experts would recommend. However, it seemed to do the trick. She never bothered him again. Far from disturbed by the experience, the one thing which bothered Ethan was the girl’s loss of interest after he’d delivered the goods. He took this as something of a slight on his performance.