I Have A Huge Crush On My CaptorCommentary • Opinion • science • crime • sex • dating • ISSUE 36•30 • Aug 30, 2000 By Roberta Geisler Roberta Geisler Oh, my God. Swear you will not say anything to anyone, but I have the biggest crush on my captor. He is so hot! I'll never forget the day we met. It was Saturday, Feb. 12. The bank I work at was closed for Lincoln's Birthday, but I let myself in because I'd left some important papers there that I needed to work on over the weekend. Right away, I realized I'd stumbled onto a robbery in progress. I immediately activated the manual alarm. (I sure hope the guys aren't still mad at me about that–I didn't even know them back then!) Before the police had a chance to get there, I was hit over the head and thrown in the back of a van. I guess the guys decided that taking me hostage would be a good way to gain leverage for their group, the Radical Free Citizens Revolutionary Action Militia. You see, they need me. To be perfectly honest, when I first saw the man of my dreams, General Field Marshall Capricorn, I wasn't all that impressed. In fact, I was so busy struggling to escape his grip, I barely even noticed his rugged good looks. But now that I've settled down and learned to behave, I see what a hunk he is. He's got gorgeous jet-black hair, a little bit curly. And he's very muscular. Much more muscular than my husband, Stan. I think so, anyway. It's funny how I can't even really remember what Stan looks like anymore. When I try to imagine him, he always ends up looking like General Capricorn! Of all of my captors, my General Cappy is by far the sweetest. He brings me food. Sometimes it's a scrap of bread or some crackers, but one time, it was a Windmill cookie. After a few weeks, he threw me an old sweatshirt to use as a pillow when I sleep–his sweatshirt! Do you think that means he likes me? I really want to tell him how I feel, but every time he walks past my cage, I get so tongue-tied! You're not going to say anything about this, right? I swear to God, if you tell anyone about my secret crush, I'll kill you! And they'll kill me. Things between me and General Capricorn weren't always so good. When I first got here, I'd scream all day and night, pound on the door to my cage, cry all the time. Even the duct-tape gag didn't stop me. I was so bad, I didn't get fed for about eight days. I ate some soap I found under the sink. (Big mistake. Here's a tip: Do not eat soap!) It didn't take too long before I began to understand that it was my fault I was in the cage. At first, I kept asking what I'd done to deserve such treatment, but after a few weeks of solitary confinement to think about it, I came up with lots of bad things I'd done. I realize that General Capricorn is way out of my league. But, still, I can't help but feel like we're building a real relationship. When I first got here, he'd just say stuff like, "Play your part and you'll live," and "Shut up, whore." But after a few months (at least I think it's been a few months!), he started showing interest in me as a person, asking me all these questions about my background and thoughts, stuff like, "Where do bitches like you come from?" and "Do you have any idea how easy it would be for me to shoot you right now?" Even though he's an incredibly busy, important man, he still takes the time to get to know me! Last week, or maybe five weeks ago, General Capricorn promised he'd get me some clean newspaper for the bottom of my cage. If he does, I'll be almost 100 percent positive that he likes me. I've been holding off expressing my feelings to him, because I'm waiting for him to make the first move. The last thing I'd want to do is pressure him and scare him off. General Capricorn's got a ton of stuff weighing on his mind, being a fugitive and all. (Kidnapping is against the law, you know. He's taking a lot of chances just to be with me!) In fact, maybe I'm not being supportive enough. From now on, I'll try harder to show him I care. I wrote his name and mine all over my leg shackle, but I'm too shy to show him. I also scratched his name into my arm, but it got all pus-filled and gross, and now you can't even read it. Oh, my God, what if he doesn't like me back? I would have nothing in the world to live for! I would seriously just want to die!