First of all, I have some extremely exciting news. One of my best friends will soon be contributing an entry as a guest blogger! She, like me, has many many man problems. Her poor brain has been scrambling around a certain problem in particular, and she really needs to shout it out. Perhaps, this could turn into a permanent thing?
Besides this, I have had a whirlwind two weeks filled with evenings of douchebags. Literally, they just didn’t stop coming, and I’m starting to wonder if it’s me. I don’t go seeking them out, and it just seems as if they all come for me. Like zombies, wanting to eat my brains.
First there was the guy, who apparently was burning a hole in the back of my head while I was talking to a (male) friend at the bar. As soon my friend got up for the bathroom, the staring problem guy swooped in and sat right in my friends seat. I must admit, I was a bit tipsy at this time, and didn’t realize that there was actually an issue with where he was sitting. He introduced himself, and began conversing with me, but I was a little taken aback at the fact the he just appeared—and had been waiting for my friend to leave. To my friend’s dismay, he returned to find his stool occupied. The staring problem guy left, tail between his legs.
On Super Bowl Sunday, that same male friend got rather drunk. Messy drunk. He wouldn’t stop touching my hair. He left, sort of pissed off, because I wasn’t tolerating his touchy-feely game. Although I was feeling slightly bored after a bit, I should have guessed. It was douche-time. I was approached by a man in a red jacket. This one, was particularly obnoxious, and even followed me outside when I got up for a cigarette. Luckily, thanks to Tecate, I escaped in a cab. (You can guess how my night faired).
A few days later, I went to the bar by myself, where I would have hoped I wouldn’t get fawned over by assholes. But, I was wrong. So wrong. I was very much enjoying my alone time, and even put on No Diggity on the jukebox. (If you’ve seen Pitch Perfect, you will know why I love this song, besides the fact that it’s just amazing in general). But of course, my douche-magnetism just sucked in another one. This guy was fairly cocky, and his cockiness was most certainly not appreciated by me. In fact, he even went in for a feelskie. He got up for the loo, and when he returned he sort of swiped his arm around me and touched my ass. I should have slapped him, but he left instead.
Needless to say, I decided to take a little break from this spot and return to my other regular establish over the weekend. Which was much needed, and very refreshing.
Now, I honestly still can’t quite answer my own question of my being a magnet for creepy guys, and or if I am just predisposed to the creepy kind. What makes it impossible for me to be polite and friendly, without being perceived as flirtatious?