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.

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