This is a recurring theme in my blog. It is something that should have passed after I’d successfully navigated my way through being 14, but it hasn’t. In fact, the older I get the more perplexed I get with the behaviour of people. I don’t know why this is.
Anyway, part 48272 in the hugely popular “What on earth made you do THAT?!” series happened today. I’ve been feeling quite ill recently, meaning that I’ve been chained to things that I can lie down on, close to lots of liquid, and I have really not been feeling, or looking, my best. In fact, I’ve felt so crap that I washed my hair and LEFT IT CURLY! Jesus. I know. Calm down, it’ll be ok, I’ll straighten it soon, promise.
I never leave my hair in its natural state because it scares small children that way. Really it does. I straighten all those bastard curls right out. You can call it high maintenance, I just call it a NECESSITY OF LIFE.
So yes, it has been curly. Today I *shock, horror* actually had to do something, in the shape of looking after a family friend’s daughter for the evening (“babysitting” aye), and so I had to go and buy food for this youngster to nibble on, due to the fact that my kitchen is always stocked with completely random things like custard, salt and spinach and custard, salt and spinach alone.
I really did look terrible, dear reader. The nice ones among you will think “lies! She’s LYING” but really, I’m not. If I had to rate myself on a scale from 1 to 10 I’d give myself a 1, for merely being alive enough to remain upright.
I dragged my carcass to Asda in the biggest “I don’t want to be here” way ever, and through the sounds of Florence and the Machine, I could hear someone running behind me. I turned around (got to be on your guard around here, for I live in the GHETTO) ready to let the person pass, when the man (who was like a bodybuilder, no lie) smiled at me and asked if I lived in the area. Thinking he was going to follow me home, I said no. Then I said yes, thinking, well if he does follow me home he’ll know i’ve lied, and that would make the knifing a definite thing rather than a possibility. He looked a bit confused then said he’d “see me around”. See me around!? What does that mean?! Does that mean he’s going to follow me home and beat me up?! (Side note: I do quite literally live in a sort of ghetto. A middle class, English ghetto, but a ghetto nonetheless. My old next door neighbour KILLED A MAN. No lie)
I carried on walking, and he walked with me. Do you ever get those moments where you think… “oh shit, I’ve had it now”? Yeah? Yeah.
The thing I hate more than ANYTHING IN THE WORLD is people making unnecessary small talk. I don’t have the greatest social skills. I can’t keep a conversation about the weather going for more than about 30 seconds. So I don’t understand why there seems to be this insistence that if you’re with someone, even if you don’t know them, even if you’re never going to get to know them, you just HAVE to talk to them. This is why I’m glad someone invented the personal music player, and noise cancelling headphones. Hopefully soon everyone will be wired up and will only have to talk to the people they want to talk to. I’ll be happy then.
Anyway, there we were, walking together. Anyone who would have seen us would have thought that we were either A. very mismatched couple, or B. a pimp and his whore. He asked about the weather (well, I say ‘asked’, what he said was – “It’s nice weather today” and when I didn’t reply (I’m hardly going to contest this fact, am I? So what’s the point?) he added a hasty “Isn’t it?” to the end. Like adults do to toddlers to try and get them to talk) and then he began to turn in a different direction to where I was going. Actually that’s a lie, he was going the way I should have been going but I pretended that I didn’t want to go that way at all. He asked me what my name was, and I told him (my REAL name as well. When I told my mum this she said “you should NEVER tell anyone like that your REAL name!” – like they’re going to HACK INTO MY BANK ACCOUNT WITH THAT INFORMATION) and I don’t know if it was because he had a strange accent or because I was so paralyzed by the feeling of ‘I WANT TO GO NOW PLEASE’ but I didn’t hear what his name was. Hardly a fair trade.
I thought I had got out unscathed, but then he did The Thing. Oh yes he did. He looked me up and down. Yeah. Smooth. It wasn’t even subtle, it was one of those ones where they take a quick glance at your shoes, then slowly move up your body, lingering at YOU KNOW WHERE, and then quickly look at your face, just to make sure that you’re not deformed, or 12 or something. I didn’t know whether to be amused, or flattered, or what. I just stood there, wondering what I looked like and wishing that I could just get to my destination when he really put “the cherry on the cake”, so to speak.
He bit his lip, and said…
WAIT FOR IT…
“How YOU doin’?”
AaaaaaaaaaahNO. That ONLY works when Joey says it. Really. REALLY. It can’t be a real chat up line, surely? It sounds so idiotic. Maybe he was trying to be ironic, or funny. Oh, look at me, I’m hip and moving with popular culture, how YOU doin?!?! No, strange man, no. Just don’t.
(However, saying ‘how you doin’?’ is a damn sight better than what one particularly fine specimen of pondlife said to me once – “Do you have any Italian in you?” “No” “Would you like some?” – complete with cheesy slash crazy slash perverted grin. Yeah, try topping that, you really, really can’t)
How do you even respond to a question like that? I continued to stand there. I must have looked a bit perplexed, so he said “I just wanted to tell you that you are beautiful” OH NO, REALLY. God. Actually, this is a bit nice. It’s better than a complete randomer saying “Oiiiiiiii you’re so fit I want to dooooo you” or something. It was just the way he said it – plucked straight out of a “Guide to making girls think you care”. Cringeeee.
I said thank you, with a face like this – O_o – and a brain full of ‘LET ME GO ALREADY’, and then he asked if I’d like to go for a drink. “Right now?” I said, looking around to see if there were witnesses. “Yeah, if you’re not busy?” “I actually am” (I actually was)
He looked a bit crestfallen but then his face lit up and he – aha! – asked for my number. At which I said I had a boyfriend (I lie, I lie, but it’s the easiest way to get out of these things), he looked like he was going to cry, and I ran away. Not literally, that would have looked a bit crazy. I actually carried on going down the wrong road and then waited at the top of said road until I was absolutely sure that he’d gone, and turned back.
Why is it, that when I’m wearing really shit clothes, with really shit hair, that its THEN I get chatted up? WHY? What is it that you POSSIBLY see in me, Mr. Randomer Off The Street Who Fancies His Chances?
The reason that this is a ‘I DONT UNDERSTAND PEOPLE’ post is because I really do not understand people who go up to complete randomers in the street and ask them out. Just…how? Is it because I lack confidence so much? Is this normality to everyone else?
Edit: I saw him again when I was coming back from Asda, with the 7 year old in tow, and he said hello and I just thought… OH DEAR GOD NOT AGAIN. I smiled meekly, carried on walking, and when he said “Do you remember me” I said “Erm, yep” and that was it. Didn’t look back. There were enough people around to intervene if he was going to run after me, you see.