I am Steve Hutton’s Stalker

Something about travelling gives one a sense of freedom.
Starting in a new town can be like that too – completely anonymous. No expectations – internal or external. No habits about what or who belongs where, or what should happen when. It’s almost addictive, if it didn’t come at the cost of some pretty nice feelings – belonging with friends, warm cosy home feelings, clean laundry.
Anyway. One of the things about being an outsider is how different everything looks - it's possible to really *see* things. In my first few weeks as a temp in the TCSW, I got to go to a lot of minor events where I could just stare slack-jawed at the world around me. One of the things that caught my eye was a (presumably) innocent man called Steve Hutton. He's the general manager at the local paper and as such gets invited to a large number of meetings, launches, receptions, discussions, and openings. He's a good looking man - a little taller than I am with dark hair, well-formed brows, and a charming smile. In other words - easy on the eyes. In this town that is a standout feature.
Being a minion, I usually have nothing else to do, but to find a vantage point where I can be simultaneously called upon by my boss at any time, and comfortably stare at Steve Hutton. After a few months, he has started to notice that I do this. As a continuation of my anthropological experiment, I have decided not to stop. Frankly, I'm amazed I got away with it for so long. Very 'Fight Club' if you take my meaning.

It's great to have a hobby.
It really is very minimal stalking - I haven't ever gone to his workplace, taken surveillance photos, found out his wife's name - none of the basic things. It is piss-weak stalking I know - but I just keep hearing Edward Norton's voice saying "I am Steve Hutton’s Stalker" and it makes me laugh. You know, why get all bent out of shape about Brad Pitt (or Angelina) when there's perfectly good-looking people who are a lot more accessible to watch? I'll never get to meet Brangelina in person, but I can offer Steve Hutton a badly cooked entree every other week.

Let's hope he's got as a good a sense of humour as I have imagined that he has. Otherwise, I'll have to find out if blogging constitutes a breach of a restraining order.