“Guests, like fish, begin to smell
after three days.”
--Benjamin Franklin
I'd say they can stink after three
minutes!
You'd think I would be happy with some
girl throwing herself at me. Well, if I was an undiscriminating slut
I suppose so. Just because you throw an anchovie/pineapple pizza at
me, doesn't mean I'm going to eat it. I have preferences, tastes.
And just because your female and your making it too damned easy for
me to fish you out of the water, doesn't mean I'm going to tug on
that line. I may like haddock but not rockfish. I ain't desperate
enough to eat roadkill when I pass it on the highway. Some guys are
though.
I was out, Friday night in some local
joint in Rehoboth. This woman, near my age, starts to become
friendly. Ok, fine. But as the hours wore on, she kept hitting on me
heavier, like with a piece of re-bar from a concrete form. I wasn't
in the least bit interested. In her mind, if I wasn't responding, it
was because she wasn't trying hard enough. Solution? Turn up the
volume.
In those situations where I wish to be
left alone, I'll be polite but give one word answers, little eye
contact and the usual coolish shoulder to nip in the bud any
aspirations of the other. 99% of the time the other “gets it.” I
get it too when I'm trying to work up a possibility and it's going
nowhere.
This is called simple etiquette.
You'd think people reaching their 40's
would have a clue about that. Ugh, I guess not all.
We were watching the Bruins lose
unfortunately but before that, they had made a goal and this hard
selling girl, uses the crowd's enthusiasm to spin around, give me a
tight hug and bite my chest through two shirts I was wearing. I
didn't expect that at all and it stung like hell.
She had immediately spun back to
watching the TV in a second and she did not see the reaction on my
face. A guy I didn't know at the table did though. My face said:
“Jesus H Christ! That hurt.!” That then turned into a second
darker look that said: “Get.the.Fuck.Away.From.Me.”
The message was just for her and it was
strong on my face, but the concussion of it made the guy, who wasn't
the target of my annoyance, spin around and not look at me another
second. I scared him with it apparently. Collateral damage!
I really,really,really,really,really
dislike anyone breaking into my personal space that haven't been
invited there in the first place. It's like some stranger bursting
through your front door and you think, “Gee, thanks for knocking!”
My coolish reaction to her did make her
leave at times, but of course, she'd find new courage to tap into and
have another go at it. Sigh...I'd have to use a woman's “Ice
Princess” tactic each time to quench her little blaze.
She did finally leave me alone. By the
end of the night, she had come by our table to pick up her jacket
that was left there and I said “Goodbye” and she gave the most
detestable looks you saw ever. It said, “I hate you for denying
me my candy!”
I thought, “Too bad...you're
outrageous performance really endeared you to me...didn't it?”
Later on a friend said. “Look, she's
pushing 50 and for some women, they freak, they then get desperate
and will use anything to get your attention. It's like someone
clawing at you as they're drowning...no wonder you pushed her away.
She's getting close to the age where the dating market has no use for
her...”
I say,”Well, yeah in some cases.
Other women her age actually do have some social skills
though...That's was irked me the most...that 'barging
in'...intruding...god how I hate that.”
He remarks, “You sound like your
Dad.”
“Yep...parts of me did become him”
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