Monday, February 11, 2008

In Girl Speak, No Means Fuck Off

Last Saturday I was winding down from a rather busy shift - one that was filled with table after table of demanding children - and cleaning my section as my last table chatted. They had finished their food about thirty minutes before, and by all standards were keeping me there longer, but I didn't mind. They were nice and sweet and geniune, so as far as I was concerned they could stay as long as they pleased.

When they did leave, I began bussing their table, clearing the dishes, all that jazz. Then I saw him. Creepy Guy. Gah. Why me?

Creepy Guy is, well, creepy. In fact, Creepy Guy is actually how I refer to him in my head instead of his real name, so this is not for his protection but for authenticity.

To make a long story short, Creepy Guy got the wrong idea one day and started getting just a little too touchy-feely around work. It wouldn't have bothered me, since most of the guys at work are pretty touchy-feely, but coupled with comments like, "Hey, how's my girl?" and, "You'll need to be patient with me, I just got out of a relationship", I was beginning to get pissed off. Not to mention whenever I'd talk to a male server, there we was. I'd glare at him and walk off, but nay, my body language and platable hatred was lost on him.

Before he showed his terrible colors, he asked if he could have my number in case of a need for a shift change or something like that. I obliged, and began getting texts. The first one asked me how I was doing, but I ignored it. I wasn't interested in him, and I'm notorious for not answering texts. Two hours later, I get this gem:

"I would have waited for you to all me but i had to medicate my mouth when i woke up and im concerned but not mad text me back"

Translation: "I'm creepy ass needy stalker." I texted back that I did not have text (I do) and that I could not talk because I was busy. Of course, he respected my boundries and immedietely called me (I didn't answer).

The brinking point, of course, was when I came in one day when he was there. I was short and mean to him, but he still persevered as my anger grew and grew. Nothing deterred him. NOTHING. As I was getting some dressing, he decided it was the perfect time to cowherd me.

Him: "Are you doing anything after work?"
Me: "Yes."
Him: "What?"
Me: "Things with friends."
Him: "Well, they are going to have to get over that, aren't they?"
Me, glaring at him: "No, they aren't."

Obviously, I just handed him a fuck you. But he did not take it. No sir. About eleven that night, as I was sitting in a hookah bar with some friends, I get this text:

"Hey my parents are out of town this weekend if yall are looking for something to do call me :)"

This dude is fucking thirty. By this time, I've ascertained that it's gone too far. The next day, I text him that I'm not comfortable with what he's doing, that I'm not interested in him, and that I don't want to date him. Not a maybe, not a I don't think so, a solid no. A full on I don't want this, leave me alone. Generally, girls have a hard times saying no. We skirt the issue by saying things like, "I don't know", or "I think". Shit like that. When we come out and say "no", we mean it. This, of course, sails right over his head.

That was the short version. Back to Saturday.

He staggers up to me far too confidently for how I regard him and how everyone else realizes I regard him. I don't try to hide my feelings for him in anyway, I will walk away from him when he speaks to me. I will glare at him when he approaches. I will blatantly lie to his face. Yet every time I pass him, he stares at me so lovingly it makes me want to punch him in the balls. Fucker.

Him: "Heeeey. How are you doin'?"
Me, not looking at him: "Fine."
Him: "Cleanin' your tables?"
Me: "Mmm."
Him: "I haven't seen you in a while."
Me, flatly: "We haven't had shifts together."
Him, pulling out one of my chairs for me to sweep: "Oh."
Me, automatically: "Thanks."

Fuck. Fuck fuck fuck fuck fuck.

Him, instantly brightening: "I didn't hardly do nothin'. I could pull out the others ones if you want me to."
Me: "No, I have it."
Him: "Oh, well if I'm being annoying..."

Passive aggressiveness is one of the most unnattractive traits in a person. Grow the fuck up and stop trying to garner pity. Obviously you're annoying me. I don't want you around me. Go away.

You see, Creepy Guy went from being a running joke between my friends to flat out enraging me. Why? Because I've told him I want him to leave me alone. But he has yet to listen.

I'll keep the Creepy Guy saga updated, but I have a feeling it won't go past longing stares and whiny conversations. What a charmed life I live.

Saturday, February 2, 2008

Advice For Those On The Battlefield

I've been on some bad dates.

Really bad dates.

This goes beyond awkward pauses and slip of the tongues. I'm talking, holy-christ-what-the-fuck-did-I-do-to-deserve-this dates.

It's not that I'm a huge bitch, I'm pretty laid back and forgiving. I just have really bad luck in the dating field. I admit, part of it is my fault, I need to learn how to pick my dates a bit better. But I learn with each bad date, and tonight I will be passing some of that knowledge onto anyone who stumbles across this.

Some of this may seem like common knowledge, but from my experience, no, it's not.

What Not To Do On A Date:

1. Show up drunk/high. Especially if you're driving. You know what's great? Spending the night driving with someone, having the feeling something is very off, and then smelling hard liquor when said person leans in for a kiss.
2. Kiss in the very beginning of a first date. It's just so damn needy. Not to mention completely obliterates any sexual tension that might build during the date.
3. Let the door hit her/him on the ass. I'm not talking about holding the door for your date, I'm just saying don't just drop the door behind you. Hold it until you're sure he/she has it.
4. Talk about any disgusting bodily functions. This is more of a first date thing, for me anyway. But, honestly, I'm probably not going to go on another date with a guy if he announces, "Excuse me, I have to go the bathroom. I did have a big dinner, after all." Which a guy did. And no, I did not go out with him again.
5. Go overboard on compliments. Men sometimes think that it's great to tell a woman she's beautiful as often as possible. It's not. I've gone through a whole date with someone complimenting me probably every five minutes. It got tiresome. I'd say limit yourself to one to two compliments.
6. Laugh at everything and too damn hard.
7. Say something creepy and then try to kiss him/her. "You know, you remind me of my sister."
8. Treat the waitstaff poorly. Unless they are terrible and inattentive, don't be an asshole to the waiters. You better believe I'll be making a note of this.
9. Text or answer calls that are not emergencies.
10. Ignore your date when he/she says he/she needs to go home. I seriously almost called the cops on that one. What the hell am I supposed to think when someone ignores me and keeps driving when I tell him I need to go home?
11. Expect your date to pay. This goes for guys and girls, by the way.
12. Reveal too many personal details. "Sometimes I see dead girls at night." One of the few times I've been rendered speechless.
13. Talk in a baby voice. Call me crazy, but being infantilized doesn't exactly get me wet.

14. Think one date equates to a relationship. For some reason, a lot of people get confused about this.
15. Be possessive, clingy, co-dependent, or patronizing.
16. Make comments about your ex. Even negative comments. Hell, even neutral comments. This one is actually one I've done before. It can be hard not to sometimes, but curb it. Beat it back with a stick. I've been on the receiving end of someone talking negatively about his ex and it wasn't attractive.

Friday, February 1, 2008

New Oncoming Addictions

As of late, I've been more stressed out due to a myriad of issues that have been repeatedly metaphorically punching me in the face. By nature, when we are faced with stress, we revert to our biologically given tendences, such as a natural inclination towards anger, depression, etc.

Mine, oh so luckily, is addiction. From both sides of my genes.

Perhaps addiction is too strong of a word, but it's definitely a comfort. My comforts range from the usual, the odd, and the damaging. They are:

1. Zach Condon's voice. Desperately beautiful, full of emotion. I've been listening to his music on a loop and almost exclusively as of late.
2. Wine. To help me sleep. Because, for some reason, wine knocks me out as effectively as a roofie.
3. Cigarettes. The calming effect is wondrous.
4. Cooking. To the benefit of all, save me, because I usually have tendency not to eat what I cook.
5. Running. Seratonin levels are wonderful.
6. Coffee. The smell, the taste, the energy boost...very nice.
7. Working. It makes me feel needed, it gives me a break from my life for a couple of hours, and best of all, it distracts me from my inner monologue.

I'm sure there are some I'm missing, but there are the main ones. But pardon me, I'm going to go have a cigarette.

Wednesday, January 30, 2008

7 People

Today a normally thirty minute drive took me fifty minutes. Memphis drivers are infamously horrible, and apparently a couple of icy patches on the side of the road is cause for driving fifteen miles under the speed limit.


I was five minutes late for class, which normally isn't cause for alarm in college, but my English Comp professor has a rule: you're late, you're absent. I don't know if she counted me absent, but whatever. The class itself ended up being completely worth it.

Today we had a list of eleven people, each with a list of details about said person. After a series of catastrophic disasters that eradicates most of human life, you have to choose seven people to be kept alive.

I was pretty much laughing throughout the whole class. Our teacher was playing devil's advocate, partly because "she was trying to make us think", but mostly because I'm sure she enjoys watching us argue. There was a retarded kid in the bunch, and whenever anyone killed him off, she'd ask the person if it was because he's retarded. The person would get flustered and deny it, even though, yeah, that's pretty much the reason.

The class ended like this:

Girl Next to Me addressing the teacher: "Would you kill the retarded kid?"
Professor: "I can't answer that, I'm the instructor."
Me: "I believe that's a yes."
GNtM: "I believe it is."
Me: "It's because he's retarded, isn't it?"