Sunday, July 4, 2010

Hit and Run

I am not flattered when men hit on me. Nope. Never. In fact, my body goes into high alert at the mere hint of a wink, an uplift of chin (the "what up" nod), a whistle, or even a lingering look. I feel panicky. I don't hurry home to spread the news that I've still "got it," because #1: I never had it to begin with, and #2. I am too busy bolting the door and pulling the shades. It makes me nervous.

Maybe it's because the only men who hit on me are mentally ill, sociopaths, or in some other way adept at giving off strong heeby-jeeby vibes.

When the mentally unstable look at me, all they see is a blinking neon bulls eye. With a cherry on top.

Allow me to demonstrate.

Soon after we were married, I ventured to town to buy a garden hose.

Because our grass was brown.

While I stood in line, I felt the man behind me sidle closer and closer to me, until I was forced to turn and give him an "Are you kidding me?" stare. Unfortunately (and not surprisingly), he was not well-versed in social cues, and took this as an invitation to engage me in conversation.

I looked around in disbelief as he expounded upon what was then a famous murder. I hoped, momentarily, that he was talking to someone else.

He wasn't.

He proceeded to ask me my name.

I made something up.

He asked me if I was from around here.

I said I was just passing through.

He asked me where I WAS from.

I said Utah and cringed, guessing he would be skeptical of my driving all the way to Idaho for a hose.

He was not that bright. But he WAS that creepy. Apparently "Utah" was the trigger phrase that rang the crazy bell in his head, because he suddenly became more animated as he talked about how many murders there are in Salt Lake City.

I was scanning the building for exits, and blinking "SOS" at the cashier, who didn't seem to notice the silent scream I was telepathically sending out to the universe.

Just as I put my shopping bag over my shoulder and got into runner's stance, he lay this one on me,

"Sooooo, do you have a boyfriend?"

Now, I've watched enough police television dramas to know that perps don't look too fondly on sarcasm, but I sometimes can't help what comes out of my mouth. And so I replied,

"Nope. But I DO have a husband."

And then I ran.

Through the parking lot. To my car.

I locked my doors, and drove straight out to where Ty was working (because I couldn't drive HOME - he might follow me...).

I didn't feel safe for days.

The ironic thing is, my grass never did green up.


Christy said...

Hilarious! Love your writing Andrea. You described that perfectly. I have had a few of those moments too and some guys really are just that crazy. Thanks for the laugh this morning.

p.s. Thanks for the drink from the hose too.

Sharlee said...

Oh man. That's SO creepy. And so sad that there are people out there who lack the basics like that. Blaaaaaaah!

Stephanie said...

Yikes! That reminds me of when Sue Baker, remember her and her petting zoo and costumes, signed me up to be a mouse at the cheese factory in Nampa and some short, old guy came up to me, hands outstretched squishing imaginary stress balls, saying, "Let's find out if it's a girl mouse or a boy mouse." I pulled those balloons down in front of me so fast it made the little leprechaun jump.

Darcee/Daryl said...

So funny. I love reading your stories. So...I think it might be the Walker blood. One of my worst was a co-worker at a factory who had a "high fever" as a child, and had dreams to "play football someday." He was almost 30 at the time. Somehow got my number and called all the time. After nearly of year of no contact, he called my mom and she (I don't know what she was thinking) gave him my college address. He dropped off a flower to ask me to a dance. I wasn't home. Came back for an answer. I wasn't home. My roommate told him I couldn't go. He asked for his flower back.

Sandra {sawdust and paper scraps} said...

Ok, I can't figure out exactly why I found this post so darn funny. I mean, the fact that you engaged in conversation with a man who just weaseled his way across your personal boundary line is not funny at all. It's terrible! And, from the way he was talking about all the murders, it seems like he might have been bragging??? Scary!

Glad you ran away from the scary man.

Still, I find this post frighteningly hilarious!

Parley and Anna and family! said...

so creepy, yet so hilarious! Sorry you had to experience that. I would never go hose shopping again. Who knows what kind of crazies you'll run into?!

Parley and Anna and family! said...

so creepy, yet so hilarious! Sorry you had to experience that. I would never go hose shopping again. Who knows what kind of crazies you'll run into?!

Michelle said...

I never had "it", nor do normal good lookin’ men hit on me, BUT in the unlikely event that I do get hit on I do run home and say to my husband "I still got it". Then I break into a rendition of "I Like big butts and I cannot lie . . . ." accompanied by a dance. :o)

P.S. I am sorry I said “Butts” on your bog
P.P.S. Apparently not sorry enough because I have yet to delete it AND I said it 2x

The United Statements of Merica said...

oh that's SO creepy!! smart girl to drive to ty's work instead of home. I hate creepy people and stories about creepy people.. except this one.. I like this one, because it made me laugh and shiver at the same time.