If I happened to be her Stalker i would examine her photographs and comments for details of her whereabouts: they always tell too much, eventually.
Once located I would show up at the coffee bar she frequents and sit across from her, then casually remove my Laslo Doll from my pocket and set it on the table, turned slightly away from her to sufficiently pique her curiosity. Then: our eyes connect.
"Wow," she says, "You have a doll that looks just like you."
"Oh? This thing?" I say, turning it to face her. "A lesbian friend of mine made it for me. She is big into anime, make-up and dolls."
Lesbian = understanding of diversity: check. Anime, make-up and dolls = understanding of Cute Precious Culture: check.
"That's so funny! I have a doll of my own that looks just like me!"
"What a coincidence," I say: girls love happy coincidences.
"That's great! I'd love to see it!"
"Oh, dang: it is at home, sleeping."
(OK: don't let the 'doll sleeping' thing throw you...)
"Wouldn't it be funny to introduce our dolls to each other?" I say, smiling innocently.
"That would be adorable!" she says, her voice reaching a child-like register.
"It would!" I agree, "Does your doll like have its nipples kissed with feathery little kisses?"
"What?"
"I think my doll is really good at that; very gentlemanly."
"I'm not sure.." she replies, a bit uncomfortable.
"You shouldn't let your doll be closed off to new experiences," I say warmly. "My Laslo Doll is very sensitive to a woman's needs."
"My doll likes sensitive men."
"We should get them together and see what happens. We can have English Tea and chaperone."
"That sounds delightful," she says; I'm not positive, but I believe I can see a stiffening of her nipples beneath her starched shirt. I won't ask if her doll likes anal until later...
I am Laslo.
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