I feel a little guilty, cos I’ve been more or less hating on someone a little unnecessarily lately. I attribute it to a little green monster. It’s not like the person is not completely without faults, but I know I went a little bit over –board. I had reason to talk to the person this weekend, and just as the conversation progressed, I felt like a back-stabbing little bitch. The person’s all right. Ish.
I got a couple of reactions to my previous post. Especially the dream. For some reason, it caused some curiosity. Mostly cos I refused to mention the father. A friend actually called to ask who it was. Okay. Just so you know, for those of you that don’t, I have WEIRD dreams. Regularly. It’s just that this is the one I’ve had the time to document. The same friend was quick to mention that I didn’t have any really good excuse to not have that baby. I’m out of school, I’m working (albeit not a very good-paying job), I’m good to go.
Uh, hello? No… THAT does not mean diddly-squat! How about the psychological preparedness???
Anyway, on the issue of guys, I forgot to mention the two characters I jammed on May Day while heading to the office.
Thanks to the fact that I’ve been … er… getting approaches from guys since I was about 12 or 13, I now have a 90% effective “stalker-radar”. Which means I almost always know when a guy is going to become an unacceptable liability. So, there I was, feeling really lucky cos I’d found a straight bus from Anthony to CMS at 11am (which is like, impossible), and then this rather well dressed dude gets in after me, and for a split second I think he’s cute. Just a second.
Before I go on, let me tell you the characteristics of potential “approachers”.
a. Shifty, darting eyes – Don’t be fooled. A guy whose eyes keep dancing towards your direction is likely to say something to you soon. Some have the decency to try and hide it, but NONE of them succeed. It’s the same concept with a guy attempting to look down your top, they think you’re stupid and can’t see their eyeballs moving (seriously).
b. Playing with their phones – especially in a bus. They know you’re gonna get off at any time, and they want your number. Many usually like to display their phones in your face like it would automatically make you give it to them.
c. Silly questions, obvious questions – It’s a fair attempt, this one, but it still doesn’t fly. On the rare occasion, they might actually JUST be asking questions. But if the first 2 things have happened, it’s unlikely.
Anyway, the guy did all the above. Then asked if I was going to work or shopping. I indulged his first 2 or 3 questions, but then I wasn’t in the mood, so I opened up my novel (classic “Bug off” routine, that hardly works). He’s bugging me, and knows it, tells me he’s a trader, he’s from Anambra, has siblings, his name is Ben… info I neither want nor care for. I’m trying not to be rude. I usually try. Which is why when I AM rude, you can be assured that you deserved it. Then he drops the bombshell STUPID question. They usually do, the “I’m a total freak” statement.
Ben: Sorry, I know I’m interrupting your reading again…
Me (*looking up impatiently*): What?
Ben: I just want to know about you…
Ben: So, do you like exercise?
Me (*thinking, WTF?*): Er… well, I don’t really care…
Ben (cutting me off): Oh, I know you don’t, really. Because if you did (giving me an obvious once-over)… you know…
Me (stunned speechless): Why…?
Ben (cutting me off again): Oh, I didn’t mean to offend you, cos I really like exercise, I was just asking… do you get angry so easily?
Me (surprised that he would attack me again): I’m … not angry… I’m…
Ben (cutting me off again): You are! But don’t worry…
I got only one word for that guy. ASSHOLE. I’m sorry. Some friends of mine said I should have elbowed him, but I think he regretted his great misyan the instant he finished, cos he was quiet for a while, looking at his hands. After which he tried to tell me how beautiful I was. Seriously.
Not 30 minutes later, I had to walk a great distance cos the bus ended up dropping us somewhere stupid. And this car stopped next to me, and this rather old, rather scary looking guy asked me if I was going to VI. I lied that I wasn’t. I know better. Unwilling to let me go just like that he asked me if the hair on my head was mine. I said yes… very slowly. He seemed awed. He said it was so long (SERIOUSLY?) and so full, that what did I use? What did HE care? I shrugged and tried to walk away, but he won’t let the hair thing die. Finally, seeing I wasn’t all too flattered, he gave me his card and drove off. Apparently he’s some big-time shoe cobbler. Okay… Nice try.
Yet, with all these stories, people ask why I’m single. Oh hello? Apparently I’ve been cursed to be a freak magnet! That’s why!