Originally posted on January 28, 2009 - Wednesday
Current mood: sassy
Category: Parties and Nightlife
I think I need to
change the formula on my creep-repellent, it’s expired or something. Because of the
medicine I was taking and the new ‘dietary lifestyle change’ last week, I
elected not to go out Saturday night. Instead, I went out Sunday night. Even
though Sunday’s place is overrun with drunk college kids and cigarette smoke, I
really like it. It doesn’t hurt that the drinks are super cheap and they serve
the best grilled fish tacos I’ve ever had in my entire life. Anyway, all was
going good until I see this annoying guy that wouldn’t leave anybody alone
(men, women & in between). You know the type, he wouldn’t let anybody
pass him without either hugging, shaking hands or dancing with them. He was an
extreme attention hog, one of the worst cases I’ve ever seen. I
just can’t stand those type of people. I tried
concentrating my eyes on other things but even then, it was mere seconds before
he made his way back into my field of view. This place is huge too. And it
wasn’t me looking back at him, it’s just that he always managed to
work himself into whatever environment I was using to escape from
him. Seriously, he
was all over the place and it was getting on my nerves big time! People
like that have to be the center of everything NOT related to them.
This place has a big karaoke stage. Whenever someone was onstage doing well, he
would sit on the stage (in front of the singer) to make sure they’d have
to share the spotlight with him too. Disgusting! I
have no doubt my repulsion showed on my face either. Please
understand, I’m ALL for people having fun, but his stupid self-absorbed
silliness was like an alien airborne flesh-eating bacteria that spread at the
speed of light. I’ve long since
accepted that there are some aspects of my personality that don’t exactly give
off that inviting aura. I don’t think
I’m exactly uninviting, I think I’m more no nonsense. Since I feel
I’m a pretty nice person overall, it used to hurt my feelings that some people
were kinda scared of me or automatically assumed I was mean. Over the years,
I’ve come to terms with it and have even used it to my advantage whenever I need
to keep the undesirables away. Apparently, this guy didn’t get the memo or he
was so riddled with cluelessness, that it wouldn’t have mattered
anyway. After infecting
my vision with his silly drunk-dumbness for most of the night, he makes his way
to me. He reaches his hands out to me and nods toward the dance floor, as if to
ask me to dance. I put one hand up in the ‘no thank you-go away’ manner.
I was as polite as I could manage which probably wasn’t polite at
all. He comes closer
and I put two hands up this time and repeat that I don’t want to dance with him.
I guess he figures three times a charm, and he comes all the way up to my
ear and asks again. I say in his ear that had no intention of dancing with him
and to please go away. He calls me
“mean”, goes away and whispers something to a guy sitting close to us.
Hell, I didn’t care…as long as he left me alone. About 30 minutes or so later,
they play something I really liked, so I get up and dance. For me, dancing is a
partner optional activity. After I work up a good sweat, I
come back to my seat. Guess who makes his irritating presence known (again)? Why
can’t some people just leave well enough alone?! He says to me,
“I thought you said you
didn’t dance.” I reply,
“I never said that. I
said that I didn’t want to dance with you.” In an effort to insult me for my
insolence, he replies, “Well, I’m not picky, why should you
be?” By this point, my
jerk-a-meter had already moved well passed ‘Full.’ However I
remain calm, make sure he’s really close to me and I reply, “You evidently are picky. You chose
me, and I know there isn’t anything about me that insinuated I would be
remotely interested in dancing with you, yet you asked.” I see my opportunity to purge my
irritation with him, on him, and I go on, “Everywhere I look, I see you. All
night, no matter where I look, you make your way into my field of view. Because
of that, you’ve already monopolized most of my night. To me, that’s like
dancing. So, I’ve been dancing with you all night and frankly, I’m tired of
looking at you. We’ve danced enough.” I know that wasn’t a very nice thing to
say but clueless people really get my goat. I’m expecting
him to reply with a real zinger or at least default to the unimaginative
“bitch” word. But he just stared at me for several seconds, we’re locked
in speechless eye-to-eye contact, less than 12 inches apart from each other.
He’s about 6’5”
and I’m about 5’11” in heels, so the stare-lock would probably show me at a
great physical disadvantage to people watching us, never mind the fact that he’s
also a man and likely three times stronger than me. After several
seconds of the stunned stare from him, a smile slowly creeps onto his face. He
says, “Dang girl, that
was a good one. I like you, you’re sassy!” Then he goes back to that same guy he’d
reported to earlier, concerning my meanness, and starts telling him repeatedly
and loudly, “That girl
is sassy! I like her!”
Clearly, that was not my
intent. In fact, he’d come back probably half a dozen more times throughout the
night, telling me how witty I was…blah blah, blah. It was
irritating but as the night and my drinking went on, I was able to ignore him
with greater ease. Finally, on one of his last visits, he tells me again how
much he likes my wit and quickly kisses me on the cheek. To which I yell
“Gross!” and start to wipe my cheek off as fast as
I could. His response to that, “See?! Sassy! I like
that!” I tell him that
I’m glad he appreciates it. I also say, “You thought that was
sassy and I was half drunk (not really), it might’ve been much worse if I were
completely sober. Just think of how much fun you’d have getting insulted by me
when I’m sober. I’ll be even sassier then huh?” Of course, he laughed and went away
feeling good, though I can’t imagine why. He might be one
of those people that likes abuse or to be beat by a dominatrix or something.
I’ve always thought I would make a really good dominatrix. I’m certainly capable
of beating a man until he bleeds and screams “Yes Mistress Mommy!” After a short
while though, the sight of weak-willed, sissy men would most likely send me into
'vomitus' disgust (which may be an advantage). I won’t consider that as a career change
unless I get laid off or something. It is good to know that I have
a fall-back plan though. Until then, I’ll keep my high-heeled boots shined up
and my whip warm and ready for blood-letting. One can never be
too prepared.
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