The Police, The Idiot, and The Police.
Or what it's like wrestling a greased pig.
Over six studio albums, The Police accomplished more in nine years than most successful bands do in their entire career. The band has sold over 75 million records, has billions of streams, and the three men, Sting, Stewart Copeland, and Andy Summers, remain three of the most highly regarded artists in pop music; hell, in music as a whole.
I mean, can you think of any artist other than Sting who could record an album of music using the lute… and have it go gold?
They also recorded the type of career-defining song any artist would love to have:
This song reached #1 in the US, UK, Canada, Ireland, Israel, and South Africa.
It went to #2 in Spain, Sweden, Norway, and Australia.
It reached the Top 10 in most other Western, Northern, and Southern European countries.
This song won Song of the Year, Best Pop Performance by a Duo or Group with Vocals at the 1983 Grammy Awards.
It helped propel the song’s host album to sell over 8 million albums in the US alone.
Depending on the source, both the song and the album vacillate in the top 10 of songs and albums of the 80s and in the top 20 of all time.
The song, of course, is “Every Breathe You Take,” the first single from The Police’s sixth and final studio album Synchronicity.
[FUN FACT: In 2023, Synchronicity was selected for preservation in the United States National Recording Registry by the Library of Congress as being "culturally, historically, or aesthetically significant."]
“Every Breathe You Take” is, objectively speaking, a great song. And as much as we all love it, we must acknowledge its high degree of creepiness.
The lyrics are simple and memorable enough that I don’t need to quote them all, but here’s the first verse:
Every breath you take
And every move you make
Every bond you break
Every step you take
I'll be watching you
That’s creepy as hell.
It’s not until we get to the bridge that the sadness comes in:
Since you've gone, I've been lost without a trace
I dream at night, I can only see your face
I look around, but it's you I can't replace
I feel so cold, and I long for your embrace
I keep crying, baby, baby, please
If only Sting had built the song from that place.
A casual listen and one can see how “Every Breathe You Take” could be construed as a love song. But pay attention to that first verse and suddenly: “Hey, wait a minute… there’s something else going on here.”
Sting himself said: “It sounds like a comforting love song. I didn't realize at the time how sinister it is.”
I suspect if you’re reading this, by now you know that Sting wrote the song from a place of heartbreak and sadness as his first marriage was collapsing. Who can’t relate to a feeling of pure pain as a relationship ends? It fucking hurts!
But, if you’ve ever experienced stalking, “Every Breath You Take” is almost unlistenable.
And sadly, that is where I find myself - unable to listen to a song that more or less defined a generation - m-m-m-m-my generation.
I’ve written elsewhere and produced a short podcast in the winter called IRL: Lunatic Fringe about a shared experience with the woman I have been dating. Her “ex” is by the very definition, legally and otherwise, a stalker.
Now, we can argue the merits of Sting’s artistic expression in “Every Breathe You Take,” but I can tell you his methodology of pain release is a whole lot better than any of the following:
Having numerous bags of dog poop placed on the sidewalk, repeatedly (the funny thing here is that the idiot had to transport it for 30 minutes to place it on my sidewalk).
Having HUMAN excrement mailed to you - yep, that happened.
Fake social media accounts are being created meant to intimidate and humiliate.
Hypodermic needles were left on the sidewalk for my dog to step on.
A never-ending barrage of text messages to her that are both malicious and malevolent.
Unwanted creepy gifts.
Wierd packages placed in her neighbors’ driveways were meant to slander us but served more like a press packet.
Numerous adult toys were put in our driveways, mailed, or left in the street.
And this is very far from the exhaustive list.
Now, do you know how embarrassing it is to call the police to file a police report because someone threw a dildo in your driveway and five bags of dog crap on your sidewalk?
Did I want to call the police and detail that information? No. But I had to get this idiot’s behavior on record. The cop and I shared the absurdity of it all as he took the notes.
A few weeks later, there was a shooting outside of my apartment* and I saw the same cop and he asked if we still had “problems with that moron.” I said that we did and he shook his head: “Jesus Christ. I’m sorry.”
Eventually, we did obtain a Protective Order, for my ladyfriend (mine was rejected).
Aside from the stalker’s odd propensity for ghost text bombing her using readily available burner apps, and his continuing to subscribe us both up for what I can only say is the internet - we’ve been subscribed to hundreds, if not thousands, of websites.
Something triggered him at the end of June and the idiot began ramping up his lunatic operation. We found a couple of dildos (I think the count is now up to four, maybe five) but mostly an increase in texting her using those burner apps - which is a direct violation of the Protective Order.
But it’s not only her getting the texts now.
While on vacation with her kids and mother, there was a text sent to my ladyfriend’s 80-year-old mother saying her house was being broken into.
What kind of cockroach sends an incendiary text like that to an 80-year-old woman?
Being about four hours away, you can imagine the panic that followed. Luckily, my girlfriend was able to take action without her mother knowing or having seen the text.
She called the police and then noticed another text saying: “Give me the alarm code and I’ll go in and check it out.”
And there it was - the flag and the reveal. Instantly, and aggressively, it was clear who was announcing their full-fledged return.
She and I have discussed the importance of not engaging him in any way, and we both have been diligent about that. And as long as his behavior, as horrible, menacing, torturous, annoying, and stupid as it is, as long as it was targeted just at us we would stomach it until he screwed up.
But seeking out her mother’s number and beginning (yes, there were more texts) the text torture of an 80-year-old woman?
There was a text offering to pick up my girlfriend’s son from work (indicating the person using knows where he works). And another revealing the person knows her house alarm code.
There’s no denying who it is.
And that’s crossing the line.
Unfortunately, as he continues to flagrantly violate her Protective Order, we learned early on that our hands are tied.
One week after the idiot received the Protective Order, he (allegedly) sent her a slew of texts from a burner number. When she called the police in her town, they informed her that since the harassing text messages could not be traced to him, it wasn’t a violation.
They can be traced.
We all know that.
Even the police.
But aside from jumping on his gameboard and responding to everything digitally or with physical violence, we can’t do anything. Neither of those is an appealing option. One is as dumb as he is and the other is illegal… even more illegal than the crap he’s doing.
We took those most recent text messages to the police. Despite agreeing that it was “probably” her stalker, that it was a violation of the Protective Order, and that the ghost texts could “probably” be traced back to him… the police in her town chose to do little more than a minor investigation. And then repeat the chorus: “We can’t prove it’s him, therefore it isn’t a violation.”
Now, on the one hand, the police have been mostly empathetic and appear to want to help. On the other hand, they remain frustratingly impotent in executing help.
Some may read this and think: “Well, his behavior is annoying and harassing, but…”
Yea, dildos and all that shit is ridiculous and irritating, but if you’ve been impacted by one of these people then you know three things:
Stalkers seldom (statistically, rarely) stop.
Stalkers often escalate their behavior.
Stalkers are always unpredictable.
Oh yea, this idiot already served two years of probation for stalking and has had three Protective Orders (that we know of) against him, and at least one arrest for aggressive behavior/violence towards his ex-wife and son.
So, there is a pattern, evidence of violence, and cause for alarm. For us, but somehow, not the authorities.
As a victim of stalking, you’re constantly looking over your shoulder thinking: “What’s next?” because you KNOW there will be a next.
If you’re coupled, you worry about the other person. Are they safe? Am I doing enough to protect/help them?
It disrupts every aspect of your life.
It’s exhausting.
For what it’s worth, I do feel the police in her town are doing the best that they can. With that said, I do not feel they are doing everything they can. And that’s both frustrating and disappointing.
And the idiot? Well, he’s now and will remain, an idiot… and cockroach.
As for The Police? Aside from the commercial success, I feel that The Police were one of the greatest bands of the 1980s and arguably of all time. Full stop. Those six albums, in particular Reggatta de Blanc, remain in steady rotation around Thunderlove Manor.
The irony that the most popular song by one of the most successful bands in music is about stalking; and the name of the band is the name of the very organization of people who remain prostrate in trying to ameliorate our immediate threat and torture of stalking.
That irony isn’t lost on me.
*-some yahoos driving around shooting into the air. My neighborhood is quite safe.