No, it’s true. I don’t know why, but it’s a “cat got your tongue” sorta deal. Really, I find that I just don’t want to speak, but the situation somehow warrants it & then no words seem to want to flow. Perhaps it’s a wise move? I’m not certain.
Couple of examples. Awesome & not so awesome.
So, I like hitting up the Tienda’s. Ya know, the Mexican stores here. I like trying new food things, so every so often I’ll wander into one.
I’m not certain what it is about me. Is it that I’m not pasty? That I’m dressed too awesome for a white lady? That I’m short with dark hair? That I seem to know what I’m looking for? Because that’s totally never the case.
But I get to the cash register at these places & rapid Spanish is happening. Being thrown at me. This does not happen if I go in there with Lil’ Small (which that is rare).
There’s two things here. My mind gets jumbled & I can barely think in English, much less Spanish so I can’t ask how much something is or even say, “I’d like this” or “I’m ready to pay” in Spanish. Nothing is there but random Spanish words in my brain that do not come together to form a single complete sentence.
Two, they’re speaking so fast that I have no idea what they’re even saying. I couldn’t tell you a single fucking word except, ‘I think I know that word or that one…’, but I don’t know what they are.
I always end up giving my secret away that I’m not some awesome Latina lady whose native tongue is Spanish because I have to say, “Sorry, I don’t understand.” or some other phrase & the guy behind the counter seems thoroughly surprised.
Recently, the guy kept saying things in Spanish & I’d just nod because it was easy. One was either “Just a second” or basically “I know you’re there, I’m not ignoring you.” The next was something, but a nod & smile was apparently OK. The next was numbers, but I couldn’t have told you what they were, but it was clear what I owed since it was up on the register.
However, the next was some question & I suddenly didn’t even know who I was or where I was. He’s looking at me like, “Come on lady, it’s a simple question. What is up with her?”
“Sorry… is that, do I need a receipt?”
“Reeh-siiiit!” (which I’d pronounced it as ree-seat, because I’m southern.), he said a little too loudly (I guess because he was startled) but with a deer caught in headlights look, followed by, “I’m sorry, so sorry!”
“Oh no, no worries & if it’s the receipt, I don’t need it.” all smiles. At least he didn’t think I was a bitch.
I mean, that’s usually what follows after paying. “Do you need a receipt?”. So, I was just guessing. His tone & manner certainly didn’t scream that he was trying to ask me out on a date. It was very business as usual, so what else could it have been? He’d already put my items into a bag.
Funny as he apparently was not expecting me NOT to speak any Spanish. I know things dude, but my mind totally blanks in social situations. I don’t know what’s more rude. To just blurt out, “I don’t speak Spanish!” or to just smile & be polite & hope I make it through it. I don’t want to make them feel uncomfortable & it’s just between you & me, but I feel like an honourary member into THE cool society that they think I’m part of them, a fellow Latin American or Chicana or anything. Hello! Day totally made there, even if it isn’t true.
I’d want to speak Spanish to them, but it just isn’t happening. My brain tanks out on me.
Recently we had a yard sale. I was inside at the moment & Lil’ Small comes racing into the house saying a guy outside asked if anyone spoke Spanish & she happily said me & came to get me. “Ugh… I don’t speak Spanish!” with my arms flailing… metaphorically.
I mean, I could get by. But only a little. Barely. I could say, “Lo siento” “Solo un poco Español” “No entiendo”, which none of that is helpful to a guy who can’t speak English & was expecting someone at least partly fluent in Spanish, because those all mean, “I’m sorry.” “Only a little Spanish.” & “I don’t understand.”
Trying to explain the “broken” post digger, to say these were the new handles, I could only muster “ugh… hacer…” which is “to make”. It was a fiasco, honestly. He did smile nicely when I was saying sorry that it was only a little Spanish, because I was being nice. So, he knew we weren’t bitches or being mean to him.
Almost four years of Spanish y’all & I can’t even make baby conversations.
Which brings me to my little grocery store “boyfriend”. *sigh*. I’m pretty sure he digs me. Even if it’s not that he thinks I’m pretty, it certainly is that he thinks I’m awesome. The more I have to interact with him, the more I’m certain that I think I’m the highlight of his working days.
Seriously, the other day, instead of being a checker apparently he was on buggy corral duty (ya know, carts, if you’re not from the south), so was putting some up in the store as I was getting one. He practically jumped outta his skin from excitement & nodded a hello with a shy smile. Eh…
There were a few incidents in the past which tie in & also leads me to today.
Sometimes I’ll ask for a paper bag. Sometimes not. But apparently my first time through his line I asked for one & it became… a thing.
Recently he was excited, but also… playing it cool?, when I showed up in his line. He promptly got out paper bags then tried to seem not uncool that he needed to get some more. Laughing but saying “Seems I underestimated…” with a grin.
So, he’d ended up loading me up with twenty five paper bags. With any other checker I never would have asked for paper bags on this day. But he’s all cuckoo-ka-choo about getting them for me that I don’t have the heart to say anything. I don’t wanna be a bitch. We always need paper bags. I also don’t really want to engage.
I’ve never really had to deal with… people… having a crush on me, so I’m thinking this might be what this is, & also how does one handle that?
But the more important question should be how should I have shut down that damn manager? I may dress like I’m fun, but I am not that fun, if you get my drift. And I don’t want to be pulled into some weird fanciful sexual drama at the local super market. Would there have been an appropriate way to shut that down & not have a teenage boy crushed or embarrassed? Because I’d have been embarrassed as a teenager if someone called this out in public.
So, what’s the protocol there?
Yesterday, I was at this same store. He was in line buying a Slim Jim. He’d finished paying, turned & saw me & lit up. “Oh, HEY!! How have you been?” (it’s been a month or two, & he was asking like he hadn’t seen me in awhile & was happy to see me again… yeah…)
“Fine. What about you?” (because I mean it is the south & you’re not supposed to be a bitch. Manners, y’all.)
“Good. I’ve been good.” lighting up some more. “Paper bags. I remember.” saying it all sly like it’s important. Ya know, like I’m special or that he listens.
The girl checking me out looked back from his weirdness to me, quizzically. Then asked, “Did… ugh… you want these in paper bags?” like that was the weirdest thing she’d ever seen. From anyone, or just him, I’m unsure.
“No. I mean, yeah I like ’em, but whatever’s easy.” & then she was soothed somehow, like that explained everything, or I wasn’t crazy, or something.
I mean, it’s not like I want him lighting up, but manners y’all. And he’s not a creepster & he’s a teenager & I don’t want to fuck him up or something with him thinking women are mean bitches, but all his co-workers think that he’s weird around me, like apparently he doesn’t do this with anyone else.
And I don’t know if I’m going about this the correct way. I don’t want to engage, but I don’t want to do damage. Ya know, like “Hahah stupid, insolent little boy. Like I’d ever be into you! You barely have any facial hair! I am more woman that someone like you could ever handle! Mwahaha!” Obviously I wouldn’t be this, but it’s all I can think of that women do & are bitches.
I swear to all that is holy if the kid asks me out, I have no fuckin’ idea what I’d do. If it comes to this how do you suggest I let down a teenage boy. Nicely.
And onto protocol… & also uncharted territories. What the fuck does one do about male advancement? I don’t really need to say unwanted as it’s all unwanted. I’m happily taken & I don’t have time for that. Besides the fact that they make me feel like I need to take multiple showers.
I feel like I’m living with PTSD, y’all. These scenes keep playing in my head & I can’t wash the ick off. Besides the fact that I wish I’d handled it all differently.
So, as you can guess from just what I’ve written (& that I’ve stated it), I am not used to the male gaze on me, or men coming up to me & chatting me up. It’s not that it’s never happened in my life, but it was very few & far between & I never knew how to deal with it.
We have the guy at the petrol station in my early twenties BEGGING me to take him home. The lady inside the petrol station when I went in to pay had to say, “Fool, she don’t wanna take you home.” Then while looking at me, asking “Do you?” & while it was a question, it was really more of a statement, because she could see that I was out of my depth.
Then the guy in the unmarked white van match my speed on the highway to ask me on a date. Again in my early twenties & I lied & said I was married. He did this again a month later, but that time I found my voice. I still didn’t want to go out with him but I was PISSED because apparently I was SO unforgettable.
I seem to be a second time again gal. I try to navigate & check my surroundings. Aware at all times, but am apparently side-swiped. If they try it a second time that’s when they find I’m a very tiny, but very angry cat.
Take the kid in high school who swooped his hands across my tits (just to touch my tits) while saying nice necklace. What the fuck? I mean it came outta nowhere. I just stood there with my mouth hanging open. My best guy friend, who was standing there, was all, “Are you alright? You want me to beat him up or say something?” If he knew it was a ploy just to touch my tits, then I knew I wasn’t crazy. I told him no.
I approached him either later that day or the next & said, “If you ever touch me again, I will beat you.” He laughed. “I’m fucking serious. Try it & see asshole.”
When that guy did it a second time I beat the shit outta him, with me yelling, “I told you motherfucker! I told you but did you listen?!? Don’t EVER touch me again! Ever, you hear me?!?
But a first time & I’ve just become stupid.
So, mainly they are black guys. The one’s who actually say something to me. The petrol station & van guy? Yeah, they were black. The kid at school was white. As was the fellow drunk co-worker at a party that I had to evade as he trapped me.
There was a skinny black guy who stopped me in the parking lot of Wal-Mart once, in my thirties. He had braided pig tails & glasses. He was not oozy. But I was so out of element to be stopped by a guy & in a parking lot that I giggled a lot. Which I’m aware is not a good move. It was like Anthony Bouvier’s nervous laughter on Designing Women, not me being excited at the prospect of a date, but it sends a wrong message. He felt that I was engaged. Ya know, into the idea of dating him, so there were mixed signals with me giggling & saying “No, thank you.” Anyone coulda read that all over his face.
Another guy a month later, not nearly as skinny, kind of tall & pudgy with a workmans jump suit on, asked for my number. I was feeling pressured as all the girls I knew were talking about me not giving anyone a chance & I should play the field & date & all that. So, I gave him my number. We chatted through text a little, but I just had to decline a date offer. And I felt bad about that. I felt like I had led him on & I have never wanted to be that person. Ever.
Which was the last time I listened to anyone but myself. It’s not something I wanted to do. He wasn’t oozy & seemed nice, but also he was like 18 to my 38. That also felt… wrong. To me. So, peer pressure y’all. Listen to your gut instinct (as it hasn’t steered me wrong ever) & don’t fall for it. The peer pressure, I mean.
Still to date the best pick up I ever received & I’ve mentioned him like a gajillion times was the really cute Latino. Picture it. I’m in the passenger seat with Lil’ Small driving. The Probe doesn’t have A/C so our windows are down. This guy is also in the passenger seat (but has like five other guys in the car that also doesn’t have a working A/C, so their windows are also down). We’re passing by each other so slowly on this turn in this parking lot connection that it was like in a film.
He’s lookin’ at me & I’m lookin’ at him. We’re so close we could have reached out & touch hands. “Damn! You SO fine I want you to have my babies!!”
I like that this mega cute guy thought I was THAT fine, but also it’s like it was from some film & that line? Y’all! That is the funniest pick-up line ever. Bless him for that though, I hope he found him a lady who wanted to have all his babies & has a great life, because that woman was never going to be me.
He was also not oozy. Not in the least. And by oozy I mean giving off total Jabba The Hutt vibes. Like they’re just that gross & a giant tongue will come out at any minute to slobberly lick you.
And while it’s a nice one to think about randomly sometimes, there was no way to say anything to that. No cars stopped during that slow roll & it was over. If I’d have been interested, what would I have done. “Lil’ Small! Stop the car!” & hope they stopped too? Then what? I get in & sit on his lap & he whisks me away somewhere to just have sex? Because… eh… no.
The most recent, non-oozy guy was some skinny black kid, maybe 24? I’m walking into Wal-Mart & I can feel him look up from his phone & stare at me. I can feel the intensity of the stare & then hear him say, “Daaaaamn…..”. Which was hilarious… if it hadn’t of been about me.
This would have been fine, except I wander into the home good section looking at bedding & hear, “Excuse me.” & turn to see it’s the same guy. ‘What the fuck…’
“I just have to tell you you’re so pretty. You’re so fine. I just have to tell you that.”
“…OK….”
Then proceeded to keep telling me how fine I was while looking me up & down & saying he wanted to take me out. I kept trying to detour & end the conversation, but I was feeling like a train wreck. I wasn’t scared of him & he wasn’t gross, though I didn’t give him permission to keep licking my body with his eyes, thank you very fucking much, but I just kept giving answers & thinking, ‘Sarah what the fuck are you doing?!’
Some how I don’t eat food or have time for friends & I take care of cats & my elderly mother. We all know sex was the only thing on his mind (not dating me & getting to know me or being friends, which were thrown out there by him. All as pursuasions for me to fall for letting him get into my pants. For one, I had NO time for any of this, much less that ridiculous notion, but I also wasn’t fallin’ for it. Ladies take note. Men don’t want to get to know you, especially if they’re hitting on you in a store & looking at you like you’re candy. They only wanna fuck you. Don’t fall for it!), because those are some of the lamest rambling answers anybody could give & honestly I felt should have made him decide to leave.
They did not. I tried to tell him that I was taken. That didn’t work, so I said we were married. He pretended to not hear that or care. Had to state that again a little later.
“Oh married? Yeah, but…”
“VERY happily married. Very…”
That finally fucking did it. Man, I used to be good at this. Mainly I never talked to people… or else I put out the crazy. I’d time it too. I had a good record. 20 seconds or less to get some guy to look scared & walk away. This conversation lasted, well probably five minutes, but it felt like five hours.
Seriously, I feel like if guys try to hit on me, I should whip out my mobile & bring up my +1’s photo & say, “See this? The most GORGEOUS man EVER? Do you even remotely look like him? No, didn’t think so.”
But, when I imagine this, it’s accidentally a picture of my fat, white cat Yata, whom I also have quite a number of photo’s of.
“Oh, uh… that’s my cat. Hold on. One second. Here! In your face! Now go away.”
But then we come to the oozy guys…
And this is pretty recent. I’ve even gained some weight back but is it because I’m not covering my body like I’m wearing a circus tent or have chutzpah through the roof? Because it didn’t start until I lost some weight. Again. Though I’d gained a lot of confidence in myself prior to even losing any weight.
I say again, as this uptick (with most of the previous tales) happening then. Teenage years when boys my age thought I was fat but men did not. Then in my early thirties when I lost some weight again. But I didn’t like the attention, so I gained the weight back, on purpose, & covered my body like I was draped in a circus tent. No form fitting clothing at all.
And obviously me losing even any weight this recent go around (which I didn’t try for at all) did not have me lookin’ like some Victoria’s Secret model. I was still a whole lotta woman, y’all. Just… less than before. I was a size 15, which they don’t make so could find things that were size 14 or 16. Now I’m an 18. Which is down from my previous size 22-24 in my thirties.
Size 14 on a 5’2.5″ stocky gal is still quite sizable, which is why I’m guessing different clothes/confidence was at play here? Anyway, it also felt too small for me. I like where I am here, clocking in at around 240. Which bothers me & simultaneously makes me laugh that I’m basically the Whole Lotta Rosie song. *sigh*
Moving on.
So a pretty substantial size to a 14 to a 16, so just tack on a little more to that last picture & there we go as I apparently don’t have any very recent photo’s of me. I chose the last one to prove a point. I don’t wear that out in public on principle. Like if it’s only a day of running errands I’m not gonna wear that.
It only got to the point where I’d have to drop Lil’ Small off for her first class to teach & I’d have an hour and a half to kill before showing up to be in her second class. So, I would run errands in this because yoga was happening.
But make those arms a little bigger (because they still had hanging skin even in the red pant picture), those thighs, butt, & belly & I’ll still be wearing skin tight clothing out. It’s actually not uncomfortable, so why not? But to me it’s more appropriate to wear pants or a skirt instead of zebra striped yoga pants. And it’s only ever a crop top if only half an inch of skin will be showing on my belly. Usually there is no skin showing as the pants or skirt are high waisted.
Anyways, I’m just trying to paint a picture. Apparently I kind of look like a hooker from the ’70’s or ’80’s, which is not something I’m wearing to attract attention. These are the clothes that I’ve always wanted to wear & am finding them at the thrift store or for very cheap & they fit (unlike when I was a size 24), so I’m goin’ for it!
I also made a promise to myself, that I would never go back. No matter what that confidence brought (which seemed to bring on weight loss?) or the impending weight loss, I wasn’t going back. I was going to wear the clothes that I fucking want to wear & I wasn’t going to retreat & hide again. I was done with hiding.
But I’m struggling with that because of the very unwanted attention, which is what always made me hide in the past.
I want to slap people or tell them to go fuck themselves, but I also don’t want the cops called or to be followed out to my car & then “Local lady found dead, details tonight at nine.” y’all!
So, I don’t have my voice. I’m not afraid of hurting feelings as these guys are assholes to begin with (unlike the nice teenage boys at the grocery store, whose feelings I wouldn’t want to hurt, but they are also not oozy.).
That very outfit up there, the yoga one with the electric blue tank top & zebra striped pants, I was wearing in Wal-Mart killin’ some time. I ended up crossing the path of these two guys, perhaps in their twenties & white. They stopped talking mid sentence & as I passed one of them said to the other, “Ooh! I’d ride that all night long!”
I did want to turn around & fight ’em, because no thank you they wouldn’t get anywhere near enough to me to ride that all night long.
Another guy approached me in the parking lot (possibly in this outfit as that was the errand day to save petrol) saying “I bet you know how to cook!” while perusing my body from head to toe. He was black & maybe early thirties?
There was a white guy, whose age I don’t know because he looked like did a lot of meth… since birth! (I know, how lucky am I, right?), hung out of the park car he was in to say “Oo-hoo how you doin’? Why don’t you come on over here…” on my way into the cigarette store.
A black guy, maybe in his twenties, noticed me on his way out of that cigarette store on a different day saying something like, “Whatchoo doin’ on this nice day beautiful?!”, which I kept walking & simply waved him away like he was a fly. I honestly couldn’t believe my boldness & was hoping I wouldn’t have to fight to the death over that. But really, I did not have the time.
Pulled up once to the yoga studio to let Lil’ Small out for her class & there were workers at the building next door. This guy, it was hard to tell, because he was either in his 40’s or 50’s or had led a bit of a rough life, but he was kinda pretty. Latino. He was looking me up & down takin’ it all in & his vibe wasn’t “Wow, golly gosh she’s so pretty”, & it wasn’t oozy, but fierce like he would want to take me if given the chance, but one look from me told him that was a bad idea but also that he liked I had a fighting spirit.
This seems odd, but I respect that. He coulda & woulda fucked with me… literally, as it was in there somewhere, that propensity, BUT he wasn’t gonna because he realized I don’t know what… that I was some equal? Have some Devil Magicks? That I’m no easy target.
Now, I don’t think this about all the guys who are diggin’ me. Not at all. They have to give off that vibe. Not that he was a serial killer, but it was like the serial killer who ended up not torturing or killing his prey because she was… too badass?
It’s like the scary was there, but wasn’t gonna come out. Not on me. Perhaps that he realized I coulda taken him in a fight or at least do damage made him kind of give a nod like I wasn’t what he expected. That is what I respect & surprisingly is a lot less scary or oozy than one might think. Well… at least to me. No, I actually don’t think most of the men or guys in these equations would just take. I don’t even get the vibe that they’re thinkin’ about it.
And that doesn’t even really make sense, but it’s like oh I don’t know, lets say he’s a demon who just does whatever, but then realized I was also a fellow demon. My horns were showin’ basically so a tip of the proverbial hat to let me know he saw me & I’m more than what he thought. That probably doesn’t even make sense.
Not that I wanna fight to the death, but I think I could take on power versus oozy. Like his ilk was just straight forward, no nonsense. These other people are sneaky. It’d be like taking on the Balrog verses Gollum. I’m betting the Balrog would be far easier since you wouldn’t have to deal with sneaky backstabbing. Does that make sense?
Which leads me to the most oozy man I’ve ever encountered & I’ve encountered a few, but in far less degrees.
I was in Wal-Mart in the deli section & I can feel intense energy on me. I look at this older thin black guy (probably late 40’s or early 50’s) is just starin’ me down like he’d just come upon Christmas morning. I pass him & don’t engage. I end up on the candy isle & then there he is.
“Can’t decide on snacks?” & tries to laugh in what I suppose is a not creepy way, but it was totally the oozy thing, The Greedy, from the 1976 Raggedy Ann & Andy movie. Like he got off on pudgy me picking out candy & chocolate. Like he was looking for his… sweetheart.
Then he slowly passed me, whispering as he went, “You’re really pretty, ya know.” & got on the other side of me. It was so oozy that you could swear he’d stuck his tongue in my ear, though no such thing ever happened. But I turned so as not to have my back to it him. Keep my guard up. I really wanted to whip out my pocket knife that’s in my purse & cut him. But I just made a face of fuck you & said “Mmmhmm” like I was not at all impressed.
I almost cried in the store. I was so angry & grossed out. I thought about taking that knife out & cutting my own face up so I wouldn’t be “really pretty” anymore. Obviously I didn’t do that. I also wanted to avoid going back to that Wal-Mart, but I forced myself back up onto that proverbial horse. I also didn’t want to end up in the deli section or the candy isle, but I did that as well. Forced myself. I also did not cry in the store that day.
I’m reminded of the childhood Grosser Than Gross word game thing. Ya know, “What’s grosser than gross?” & things get listed until it is the worst. The only thing I can remember is the underwear. “What’s grosser than gross? When your underwear hits the wall & sticks. What’s grosser than that? When it slides down the wall. What’s grosser than that?!? When it crawls back up again!!!” With everyone going “Oooh!!!” & then laughing.
Just think of the most oozy, grossest, most lecherous… thing you can think of & triple it. Hell, four billion times it. That was this guy. Or the thing ridin’ in his meat suit, rather.
The second gross guy? This guy I was following on social media. He was following just about everyone in this town. This one still flashes into my head from time to time, not of my own doing. I enter the grocery store & there he is & he sees me & his face lights up like we’ve been friends forever & he gives the open arm gesture for a hug.
Like a tractor beam pulling me forward, against my own will, I go over there & let him hug me. It’s not something I wanted to do at all. I’m not a hugging type of person. I did not want to be in his personal space. Yet, why didn’t I just shake my head no, grab my buggy & walk away?
Then we’re talking & my eyes keep darting around trying to find the exits, seen when it’s an opportune time for escape. Nothing seems right.
Then he says, “I’ve seen that you’re learning Spanish…” he drips out, practically salivating, looking me up & down like I’m some prize he just won. I have to shut this shit down… now!
“Oh no… I’m not any good at it.” which is a blatant lie, but I can tell that it (the speaking Spanish bit) is a selling point to what he’s already seeing of me in real life.
He seems… disappointed, but undeterred. I’m still trying to figure out how to leave when he says his father was from Argentina.
I do think it’s cool when people are from somewhere else & it just happened that I blurt out, “Oh! That’s cool!”, which I really meant, & mentally beat myself up over right after it had come out of my mouth, because he’s lighting up again. I’m sure he could tell that I meant it.
As I’m trying to find escape routes, I’m also trying to avoid looking at him in the eyes (or have him looking me in the eyes), so inadvertently land on other points of his face. His skin is sickly pale looking & his pores are ginormous. His eyebrows are crazy all over the place. It’s like the scene in The Emperor’s New Groove where they’re focusing very, very closely on Izma. Only since that’s an animated film, it’s funny.
All I remember is words washing over me, me being grossed out by him really up close like I was looking at him under a magnifying glass, that he was oozy & definitely into me, & how the fuck to get outta there. Finally some guy he knew saw him & broke his attention & I was outta there like nobodies business.
Back to my record of gettin’ guys to run away practically screaming. I want to do this now, to break out the crazy, but I’m also a little afraid that I’ll be on the local news. “Local woman hacked to death & left by dumpster. Details tonight at nine!”
Now, I’m not crazy (I know, I know. Crazy people always say that, but seriously I’m not. I only play crazy on TV), but apparently I can pull out all the stops. Mainly it was saying I was El Diablo’s daughter or that I could cut ’em or hex ’em with my Devil Magicks. The other trick up my sleeve was to perk up immediately like I had absolutely no self-esteem & would latch on to the very first person to show me any interest. Really layin’ it on thick. Telling people to go fuck themselves worked too. I saved that for when I just didn’t wanna fuck with ’em because I just didn’t have the time.
It wasn’t even just guys. Girls at schools that were bitches. One thing that comes to mind was that the popular girls were calling me a lesbian. Just to be bitches & make me cry or whatever. But I played it. Had my friend in on it. Every time we saw them, I’d grab her hand, raise it up in the air & yell, “Lesbian love in the hallways!!!!” while staring them down. Not what they wanted & they quickly lost interest in what they felt would torment me.
Ah, the simpler days of fucking up the plans of bitches. Too bad I can’t pull that tactic now. Wait… I could, right? Men, let me ask you. If you saw a lady you thought was pretty & you were gonna sidle up to her, but she suddenly grabbed the invisible hand or her imaginary lesbian lover & just shouted “Lesbian love y’all!” while starin’ you down… you’d take evasive maneuvers, right? Even if you were totally thinkin’ you’d fuck her later & maybe you could let crazy slide, that’d do it right? Put you off her?
No, damnit. Now that I’m thinking about this memory more. Two girls screaming about being lesbians in crowded halls, the teenage boys were stopping & staring & smiling, so fucking scrap that one, man.
The overly excited girl worked for guys who were into me as well as guys being assholes. I’d just had enough of them either chatting me up or being jerks so I just got all overly flirty & bouncy & saying how our lives would be perfect together & how much I loved them & all the babies we’d have. Not one of them thought that’d be a good idea.
But pullin’ the El Diablo card worked too. There was a Jehovahs Witness lady that was bangin’ on our door. I tried being nice & just didn’t answer it, hoping she’d just go away. She pestered thirteen year old me five times in two day. It was three times on the second day & someone was going to get eaten. I wrenched the door open & asked her what the hell she wanted. “Jehovah’s Witness? Oh, ma’am, *slight laugh*, but you’ve knocked on the wrong door.” She looked puzzled. “I’m the devil.”
Her eyes shot open wide so I finished with a laugh & she ran away & we’ve never had Jehovah’s Witness at our door ever again. I’d say it worked pretty damn well considering that was 31 years ago.
Or the guy in high school trying to date me. He looked like Christian Slater’s very older & very goofy cousin. He seemed nice though & I figured I’d go to the malt shop or whatever with him. Turns out, he was taking me to his church to… save my soul… from El Diablo. I blew up at him.
It wasn’t nice. I take great offense to being “saved”. I’m sure it’s mainly from my mom constantly trying to save my soul from the devil, but I remember being really angry about it the very first time she said something about it. So, me thinkin’, ‘sure I’ll give this date thing a whirl, see what all the girls are on about’ to being side-swiped like that? Yeah, there was a lot of screaming & a lot of “fuck you’s” thrown around.
It was like this girl saying her guy friend thought I was kinda cute… but only if I lost about ten pounds would he think about dating me. It was like this back-handed slap. Fucker. I marched over there & punched him in the fucking chest & told him to shove it up is ass. Again, we’re thirteen.
I want to punch a fucker in the chest, but also don’t want to get arrest for assault. That incident up there? I was called into the principles office. “Yeah, he said he’d consider dating me… if I lost ten pounds.” & just let my firm statement hang there for a beat. “You can go back to class.”
How would that go down now? “Officer, he said I was pretty. I had to punch him.” The only way that officer is going to say, “Ma’am, you can go.” is if that guy says exactly what he said to me, in exactly the same tone, to that very masculine officer. Which I’m betting isn’t going to happen.
So, no hitting. I don’t dare try to come on too strong & lovey dovey. Teenage boys are one thing (ya know, when you’re also a teenager), even if they dig you, they’re going to recoil at all that. Men… if they’ve gained any sneeky smarts, are going to figure that I’m desperate enough for any attention & try working it to their advantage. It isn’t going to necessarily recoil them. The situation would just escalate & I wouldn’t know how to get outta that. I’m not saying all guys would jump on that, but I’m not havin’ a good track record at Wal-Mart (I really just need to fucking stop shopping at Wal-Mart).
High school kids don’t really run & tell. It’s like they live by the snitches get stitches rule. So, me acting crazy towards someone, even surrounded by thirty other teenagers, will result in… absolutely nothing. The person get crazied isn’t going to run & tell an adult & everyone else will watch & talk about it among their friend groups, but no one’s going to run to the cops adults in charge because they want the least amount of time with them as it is.
However, who is say that a group of witnesses in Wal-Mart aren’t going to alert management or the cops? Because someone very well would. They fucking would. Even though I’m not going crazy in a way that would make it seem like I’m going to damage property or people, I’m just escalating a creepiness factor to get the person to back the fuck off. But you know someone would be informed & it would be a big deal… & while cops with a physical assault could lead to prison time, cops with a “crazy” outburst could lead to a psych ward. And neither are ideal options.
So… what are your thoughts here? Because I’m thinkin’ that my only option is to tell people that I’m the devil. I mean, I might end up on the local news, “Local woman claims she’s the devil. Details tonight at nine!” or church groups might petition my house, but most people are protestant here… or Catholic. Very religious more than thinking angels & demons aren’t real. So, best case scenario is what I mentioned above.
It’s highly doubtful that people will go & run to people in authority to have me locked away for being crazy… even if I am claiming to be something mythical or someone I couldn’t possibly be. Maybe out in California I’d be locked up, but here in Mississippi, people will just flee from me & pray for me real hard in church.
I might just have to take my chances with that one. “But officer, I only said that because he was being a creepster & wouldn’t take no for an answer. Yes, I even said I was married, he wouldn’t leave me alone.” I think they’d let it slide. I didn’t assault anyone, I didn’t slander them, I didn’t “act” crazy, I was just trying to get someone to leave me alone. I might get told to not do that again (as I internally roll my eyes), but whatever, I wouldn’t be slammed up in prison.
Unless… you’ve got any other, useful thoughts? Lil’ Small suggested luring them to customer service & alerting them that a creepster is following me. Only that hasn’t happened yet. Yes, twice a creepster followed me into an isle, but then I was unawares until they were right there talking to me. So, I’ve filed that away for actual stalker that I’m aware of.
But like what am I allowed to do, versus not allowed to do. How do I get guys to stop talking to me? I can’t just not leave the house ever again. I’m not wearing fucking circus tents. How do I make my fuck off game face more fierce. How do I get people to see me as someone who could totally disembowel them with a look, the type of person they don’t even want to approach?
Alien Tea Shoppe 