Black male on a bike, 20s-30s, unkempt:
"hey Blondie!" Ignored.
He repeats. Smiles with meth teeth.
Fucked up haiku daily.
Could it be
that a hole can grow
from the knot of a tree,
a void from where wood
& grain & rings & water
all evacuate and retreat
into some unfounded
Just as a burl evades
the hollow founders
as obligate leaves
still the silence.
I'm the kind of person who says thank you when someone asks how my day is going. I don't take compliments very well, probably because I was brought up pretty Ukrainian (and we're too busy being peasants and eating pierogi to accept compliments). I also find it odd to be overly confident, especially when someone says something nice to me. Sometimes it makes me a bit sad that I cannot feel more accepting of compliments or help from others, but that's just the way it is unless I can meditate while putting crystals up my ass aka be more of a free spirit. But to sum it up, I'm not a confident person.
I have also been told I'm cold. I don't think hating everyone and perpetually burning in the flames of hell makes me cold, but maybe my spirit is cold since I'm dead inside. It's hard to say. But either way, if I'm at my measly half hour lunch break and am just trying to hustle for some pokemon, I don't want strangers trying to chat me up like we're long lost friends. I also don't want to ever deal with fuckboiz, so let me just #nope to that prematurely.
I had passed a young man dressed in a suit who was, oddly, carrying a vintage camera. I thought that was strange, but I know enough to not stare now. We walked by each other and I didn't make eye contact. Good.
At the end of my lunch, I started walking back to my office. This time, the suited camera man was walking behind me. I looked back, saw him make eye contact, then proceeded to walk a bit faster. Suddenly, I heard someone calling out to me: "Hey, hey!" I didn't initially respond, but then heard steps getting faster. I turned around, only to see SCM trailing at my heels. He seemed pleased that I had stopped. I assumed he was going to ask for the time, or something equally as ridiculous since he had practically chased me down like a daylight robber.
"I just wanted you to know that you're beautiful, and could I get your number?"
I have a huge problem with this. How is a dude chasing a woman down on a sidewalk an acceptable way to get her number? Ever? That seems overly threatening and not charming, despite the natural inclination I have to assume that romance isn't dead unlike I am inside. I felt very threatened, at least. He was practically chasing me down, and was holding this odd [under the skirt] camera that seemed very out of place for the rest of his outfit. I also felt a bit cornered at this point, since he had gotten in front of me and was standing very close to me while waiting for my answer. So I did what any chick who has been in this situation does- I went to gave him a fake number. There are a few psychological reasons behind this:
I don't want him to physically lash out if I say no
I don't want him to verbally lash out if I say no
I did ask him first, before giving him the golden digits, why he was asking me in such a way (like a creeper on the street after flagging me down like he was landing a jumbo jet). He said he had noticed me earlier (#nope) and that I was just too beautiful (hope you like a girl who makes jokes about buttholes literally 24/7, bruh). So basically, I was a pokemon, and you know what they say - gotta catch 'em all.
So I started to say the number of my boo thang, since one of my girlfriends had suggested that online. I had been waiting to try this technique so I could see how badly random dudes could be trolled (and we're both pretty damn good at trolling). But somehow in my repetition, I suddenly puked out my former fat fuck boss' number. Which is a landline. At my former job.
I don't know what happened. I had panicked over the area code. Once I got past the 3rd number, my brain unleashed a fury worse than a night on the toilet after drunken Taco Bell. Not wanting him to assume that I was giving a fake number and then get pissy, I committed to the number I had dialed many an afternoon while Hamburger McFatFuck was out ubering rather than managing the help desk.
So that, kids, is why you don't chase after girls, literally or figuratively, especially if they're just trying to mind their own and play pokemon and not get hit on every GD second of the day.
Please stop asking me for my number in such weak ass ways. If you're going to ask, at least get my fucking name first, you clown mobile.