It appears last night just so happened to be one of those occasions. Luckily for you. I hope you like to read.
So last night I went to dinner with a good friend to complain about men, naturally. For the sake of privacy let's go ahead and call this good friend M. M and I went to our favorite date-night restaurant. (side note: restaurant is a word I can never spell right the first, second or third time. Now you know a little bit more about me). I'd been out of town for quite some time, so a large chunk of our date was also dedicated to explaining how things with Mr. REA happened to fall apart. We spent most of the night complaining about how difficult it is to meet men in The City. typical topic of conversation for us. And as always it's a fabulous time. We say our goodbyes and walk in opposite directions towards our respective apartments....
Back story - I live .4 miles from this restaurant. This is approximately 15 minutes walking, 10 if I'm feeling frisky, cold or paranoid. About three blocks from my apartment, a man approaches me on his bicycle. It's 9:45pm.
This man is quite cute in the soft glow of the street light, however this is also the part I mentioned before about how I never do things like this...
For the sake of privacy, although I doubt he knows what that word means, we'll call him C$. (that's pronounced, C-money). Because you will see that he is just. so. baller.
His pick-up line goes like this:
(You'll notice things progress from strange to weird and from weird to F-ing bizarre in a matter of only a few minutes. just bear with me.)
C$: excuse me, hi.
Me: (pulls ear buds out, looks around) hi.
C$: I'm C$, what are you doing?
Me: Uh, hi C$. I'm walking home...
C$: Oh. Do you live around here?
Me: Yes. Do you?
C$: Yes. Do you live alone?
Me: Uh...yeah...do you? (note: never admit this to a stranger. and don't you dare contact my parents to tell them I admitted this to a stranger. I swear they raised me smarter than this.)
C$: Yah yah. I do too.
Me: Cool. What are you doing...?
C$: I'm going home too, I went to get ice cream.
Me: Okay...
C$: Would you like to come have some ice cream with me?
Me: What?.... Ok. (note: no matter how lonely or desperate for attention you are, never agree to get ice cream at a strangers home.)
C$: Ok great. Um. I have to go clean up my room first. Hold on.
Me: Okay... (note: never follow a man home who says this.) Hold on C$, you aren't some sort of rapist or murderer are you? Just curious.
C$: What? No....Are you?
Me: No.
I'm sure glad I gave him the Creep Test before I went into his house. He passed with flying colors.
He then had me standing outside of his house for 3 solid minutes while he 'cleaned up his room'. Shame on me for missing my golden opportunity to run.
If his room was clean after he let me in, I would have definitely thrown up if I saw it messy. The place was a disaster. Note: you may remember that he previously stated he lived alone. BOLD FACE LIE.
Futon bunkbed. Lord of the Rings posters. Comic books. Dirty clothes. He even asked me, 'does it smell weird in here?' He really knows how to make a girl feel at home. What. A. Hunk.
What first caught my attention was the diploma hanging on the wall. And when I say 'hanging' I mean with a thumbtack. and uh, have you ever scanned something and it accidently printed out just sliiiightly off-centered? Well my friends, this 'diploma' was clearly scanned and copied. I'm no dummy, I can spot a falsified document miles away.
I'll spare you the rest of our direct dialogue only because the drawn-out, incredibly awkward pauses just can't be represented well enough via text.
Things I learned about C$ in the 15 minutes after entering his bedroom:
- His hobbies include: "I like eating ice cream" and jogging.
- He works at a liquor store down the street. (note: I will stock up on booze elsewhere from now on)
- He has a girlfriend of 2 1/2 years who won't 'do it' with him.
- He then openly admitted "I've spent a lot of time in here...you know, just masturbating all summer"
- He is 35 years old.
- He finds me attractive and would like to kiss me.
To which I said, 'No thanks we just met...' don't worry guys, he understood.
At one point during our conversation (now there's a generous word), C$ turned to me and said, "how do you pronounce your name again?" I died. For a name as common as mine, and as American English as mine, pronunciation is never part of the difficulty with it. I stated both syllables very clearly and slowly for him.
Now, let me just be honest here. Upon first interaction, I assumed he was drunk. It waaaas 9:45pm on the 4th of July... however, upon further interaction, I'm beginning to think he was more different than drunk. Later, when I recapped this story for my Best Friend Forever, (to protect her identity, lets henceforth refer to her as BFF), she kindly reminded me that I have degrees, credentials and experience that qualify me to recognize and diagnose disorders and delays in humans. Oh how this knowledge escaped me in my time of need.
With the time I had to concoct an escape route, all I came up with was the good ol' "oh look at the time- gotta go!" line on him and nearly got hit by an SUV crossing the street.
I'm frustrated with this post because it isn't exactly an appropriate forum to express HOW AWKWARD this encounter actually was. And, once again, I found myself wishing I'd had invested in one of those helmet-cameras to record my day-to-day lifestyle in hopes of someday becoming an outrageous reality tv star.
Or to at least prove to my friends that I couldn't make this shit up if I tried.
