Freak magnets unite: Readers share tales

They've been stalked, harassed, pestered, even flashed. We asked readers to share their own stories after we published one about people who inexplicable attract oddballs. Turns out, a lot of you are freak magnets.

"A friend sent this article to me with the note 'Saw the title and thought of you,'" began one e-mail.

Readers told us about a litany of weird experiences we hadn't even thought of. One ran into a guy who tried to lick her palm and worked with another who carved her name in his arm. Another met a stranger who showed her his three nipples. "I sometimes hesitate to leave my house," wrote an Illinois reader.

One thing is for sure, there are a lot of freaks - and a lot of you who they're drawn to. MSNBC.com readers share their dispatches from a freaky world:

I had a transient scream at me that I was evil outside a Denny's, some guy scream at me outside a Starbucks about how I should just admit we were meant to be together, a next door neighbor wait for me every morning and walk me to my car and pretend it was an accidental meeting, a guy on a bike swerve from traffic to shout obscenities at me as I walked into a restaurant, a guy follow me around campus and then enroll in my classes only to stare at me the entire time, a guy who stalked me at a 99 cents store, a guy who followed me through a K-mart, many a men who have exposed themselves to me, run-ins with religious freaks who stop me at odd places to tell me Jesus is coming, and a once best friend who suddenly decided he loved me and turned into a psycho who still crank calls and stalks me. Life is strange.
— Anonymous, Costa Mesa, Calif.

I'm happy to know I'm not the only one out there with this issue. Let's see, I was browsing the CDs at a local music store and a young guy came up to me and started a conversation. He grabbed my hand, and sniffed my palm. He started rubbing it on his face, and when he went to lick my palm I yanked my hand back, and ran away.

The busboy where I was working as a waitress carved my name in his arm with a knife when I wouldn't accept $300 cash from him to go buy myself a new jacket. So I said, ok fine, I'll take the money, I was afraid of what would happen if I didn't show up with a new jacket the next day!
— Amie, Hilton Head Island, S.C.

A friend sent this article to me with the note "Saw the title and thought of you ..." I entertain my coworkers with stories that "could only happen to me." I have taken public transportation to work for six years, which may increase the likelihood for encounters. These incidents include, but are not limited to, a nose-picker who sat right next to me despite many open seats, a love letter from a stranger, a teenager eyeing me suspiciously before pointing me out to everyone as a "SELLOUT! SELLOUT!!" However, my encounters are not limited to the bus. My sister (is it hereditary?) and I once happened upon a masturbator outside the Getty Museum. Another time while waiting for a ride home, a guy on an old squeaky bike with a giant Panama hat meandered up to me and asked if I was surveying the city. Huh? Another time in San Diego, I was at a stoplight, two or three cars back in the left lane, and a wild woman ran out from the sidewalk and chose me, banging on the windshield, to give her directions. There are too many others to relay, but they are men 90 percent of the time. Maybe this reflects the ratio of male-to-female freaks? You article suggests most of the magnets are women.
—Jen, Houston, Texas

I have MANY stories — especially from the years I worked in a grocery store, but the most memorable was this odd older man (he was probably in his 50s, while I was 20 at the time) who constantly followed me around the store, commenting on my hairstyles and clothing (sometimes negatively) and insisted on telling me all about his daily stresses. One afternoon he ran up to me after purchasing his groceries (in front of everyone). He started crying and shouted "Why are you doing this to me?!" and ran away. He later called the store and had me paged, then proceeded to tell me that he had accidentally cut himself while cooking and it made him think about me. This is in addition to other men who've followed me home from work, who've followed me to work and left notes on my car, one who ran across a parking lot and dove in front of my car so he could ask what nationality I was (I'm a relatively plain-looking white woman), a telemarketer who I eventually hung up on — then he called back a few minutes later and asked if I was "into guys with motorcycles," and many more.
— Jamie, Seattle

One day I was walking down the street when a man who was talking on a pay phone dropped the phone and jumped out in front of me. "Did you see that?" he asked, excitedly. "My thought just hit your jacket and then floated to the ground like my favorite piece of cheese!" He then proceeded to fall madly in love with me, and pursued me for four months before I finally called the police. This is just one of a multitude of my freak-magnet experiences.
—Tobi, Leadville, Colo.

I picked up a hitchhiker and drove him to his home. While shaking hands he proceeded to try to "squish" my hand as hard as he could — even using a second hand. Unfortunately for the man, I'm pretty strong and he gave up and left.
— Brad, Anonymous

I live in the city and know the drill: walk with a purpose, don't make eye contact, don't show any interest at all, don't attract attention to yourself in any way. And yet the freaks still flock to me. A few recent incidents: while waiting at a crosswalk, the older man next to me turned to me and asked if I'd give him a piggyback ride. Excuse me? I asked, just to make sure I'd heard right. He disparagingly looked me up and down- I'm a petite 5'1" - and snapped, "Bah! you're not strong enough anyway!" Not long after, I was walking home from the grocery store with a bag in each hand when a Mr. Clean look-alike drove his Moped off the road and up onto the sidewalk in front of me. Did I want to get a coffee? No. Could he give me ride home, at least? No. Wouldn't it be nice to spend August together? No! Could he kiss me? No!!! Come on, just lips, no tongue ... He leaned in and I ducked under his big bald head just in time, and continued on my way home. I was waiting for a friend at a park when a waiter from the cafe where I occasionally get coffee came over and sat down next to me. He pulled out a plastic bag. Gym socks, he said. Look at these gym socks. Indeed, he had a six-pack of new gym socks. Such a rip-off, he complained, then packed up and left. Ah, there's been a whole slew of them. The teacher who used to tuck stray hairs behind my ears, the college boy who talked of nothing but his kidneys, an overbearing hand-shaker, the dirty old library man, the Beavis impersonator, the guy who swiftly grabbed my hand and cracked (albeit painlessly) joints I didn't even know I had, the girl who caught up to me on the street and breathlessly recounted the weather patterns of Camelot ...
— Anonymous, Chicago

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