Excuse Me Miss...

So the other night I was standing outside waiting for the bus when this dude approached me. Let me set the stage. I’m about 5’8 in flats 5’11 in heels-and I’m almost always in heels, so anyone who approaches me must at least come up to my shoulder for basic consideration of their game spitting. But this dude, this old man rather-who later revealed that he had a daughter two years younger than myself, was eyeball to eyeball with my bobsey twins. A good look for him…but definitely not for me. Not to mention that he had a jelly belly that was the by product of too many chicken wings and Colt 45. And really I just wanted the bus to come so I could continue on with my life. But noooooooooooooo! This man proceeds to speak to me like I owe him my number just because he asked for it.

Saaaaaaaaaay what?

Creepy Old Dude: (walking past…breaks neck to speak) Hello.
Unsuspecting Amaretto: Hello.
COD: I think I’ve seen you around here before.
UA: Probably, I live around here.
COD: Yeah I saw you on Thursday night. You had on all black.
UA: Probably. (I think to myself that I always wears black)
COD: Well I’m 90 percent sure I saw you. You had on black boots and you walked from that direction. I’m not 100 percent sure, but I’m 90 percent sure that was you.
UA: (getting increasing uncomfortable by the admission of stalker-like tendencies) Cool.
COD: Yeah I know I saw you. I was stilling right here and I saw you walk by. So you stay with your man or something?
UA: Uh. No. (kicking myself at my decision to be honest)
COD: So what do you think about us hanging out sometime. Can I get your number?
UA: (deciding to let old playa down easy and not be the typical DC metro chick with attitude) Um maybe next time. (wondering where the fcuk the bus is)
COD: Next time? (raises voice) Why don’t you give me your number now? Next time means you ain’t trying to give it to me. That’s so fcuked up man.
UA: (Thinks Duh genius) Well, I don’t feel comfortable giving it out.
COD: Well you know there are some crazy people around here. And let’s say I see you in trouble with one of these people around here, they trying to rape you and I see you and I’m like you know what, maybe next time I’ll help her. She said she’d give me her number next time. (Stares Amaretto down with increasingly crazy eyes)
UA: Okay. (wants to run screaming into the night until the bus finally arrives. Throws up deuces from secure window bus seat but wonders when the world got like this, and folks stop being polite)

So the incident got me to thinking about perception. I had already decided that COD did not meet my height nor age requirements so I wasn’t going to give him a chance. And therefore I was mildly annoyed by our continued conversation until COD was able to tell me what I ate for breakfast and I got scared. But let’s just say that COD was a Sexy Tall Dude. Ohhhh yea, if an STD said that he saw me from his bushes would I have been as weirded out? I might have even called my BFF and told her how romantic STD was (I know chicks are crazy like this). Told her how amazing I thought it was that STD laid in wait in foliage for me, risking barb and briar, and baiting his breath for the opportunity just to see me. Little ole me! But what’s the difference really? I mean for all I know a COD would be the best thing for me while an STD could have the internal thoughts of a sociopath.

I know that it’s hard out there for us adults to make friends with new folks. Gone are the days where you could pass a “Do you like me” note in class. Or stare at that cutie at the school dance. And while I appreciate those bold and brazen folks out there like COD who decide to put it all out there and take that risk…as a single female living in the city I have to reserve the right to tell you no and at times hell no! But you shouldn’t call me outside my name or wish me ill will because my momma told me never to talk to strangers. I don’t know you, nor want to know you. And that’s just the way of the world...don't take it personally.

See You In Seven