I wonder why creepy people exist. Seriously...is there some sort of hidden purpose that I'm completely clueless about? Why are they there? And do they all know that they give off such odd vibes? I don't think so. At least, I hope not. I hate to think that there are people in the world who knowingly dress, act, and speak in a way that gives other people goosebumps.
Some of it can't be helped, I suppose. Some men can't help looking like adults but having little boy voices. And some women have eye conditions that prohibit them from blinking in a normal manner. However, barring basic cultural differences and uncontrollable mental conditions, I think that most people should understand that staring is not okay, and walking back and forth past the end of the grocery aisle with a strange smile on their face makes women uncomfortable. I'm not sure I understand why it's so hard to grasp the idea of acceptable social interaction. Just don't stare, okay?
And maybe writing your number on the back of my taco bell receipt, isn't the best way to glean a date. And what does one expect from that? That I would excitedly whip my car around and get back in line at the drive through so that we could converse through the intercom? What?! It just doesn't make sense! The saddest part about that, though, is that such tactics have probably worked in the past.
I'm straying from my original train of thought. As much as horrible pick up lines don't measure up to my acceptable social standards, they aren't always creepy. Sometimes, but not always. (And by sometimes, I am referring to old men in the car next to you who make kissing faces and honk at you while you're sitting at a stoplight. Gross.)
No, the worst kind of social dunces are the creepy ones. I have to assume that they are blissfully unaware of how or why they are driving others away in staggering numbers. I want to assume that because the other option is that they know they are weird and have other motives. I want to assume that, because if people like that know exactly what they are doing, I need to start carrying a can of pepper spray to work. Not for the unseen oddballs lurking outside the hospital, but instead for the one who routinely tries to strike up conversations with me, more often than not, about my appearance. I made the mistake of wearing a skirt to work the other day, only to be rewarded with a long scan of my entire body, and a low, husky, "You look really great in that skirt." Yikes. It was all I could do to keep my gag reflex in check. The only thing missing was the wolf whistle, and my can of pepper spray.
Some of it can't be helped, I suppose. Some men can't help looking like adults but having little boy voices. And some women have eye conditions that prohibit them from blinking in a normal manner. However, barring basic cultural differences and uncontrollable mental conditions, I think that most people should understand that staring is not okay, and walking back and forth past the end of the grocery aisle with a strange smile on their face makes women uncomfortable. I'm not sure I understand why it's so hard to grasp the idea of acceptable social interaction. Just don't stare, okay?
And maybe writing your number on the back of my taco bell receipt, isn't the best way to glean a date. And what does one expect from that? That I would excitedly whip my car around and get back in line at the drive through so that we could converse through the intercom? What?! It just doesn't make sense! The saddest part about that, though, is that such tactics have probably worked in the past.
I'm straying from my original train of thought. As much as horrible pick up lines don't measure up to my acceptable social standards, they aren't always creepy. Sometimes, but not always. (And by sometimes, I am referring to old men in the car next to you who make kissing faces and honk at you while you're sitting at a stoplight. Gross.)
No, the worst kind of social dunces are the creepy ones. I have to assume that they are blissfully unaware of how or why they are driving others away in staggering numbers. I want to assume that because the other option is that they know they are weird and have other motives. I want to assume that, because if people like that know exactly what they are doing, I need to start carrying a can of pepper spray to work. Not for the unseen oddballs lurking outside the hospital, but instead for the one who routinely tries to strike up conversations with me, more often than not, about my appearance. I made the mistake of wearing a skirt to work the other day, only to be rewarded with a long scan of my entire body, and a low, husky, "You look really great in that skirt." Yikes. It was all I could do to keep my gag reflex in check. The only thing missing was the wolf whistle, and my can of pepper spray.
1 comment:
i was creeped out by an old man over the weekend. we pulled up next to him at a stoplight - in the back of his rusty old truck was a pile of rocks so big that it made the bed of the truck practically touch the ground. now, it would have been semi-okay had he just looked over when we pulled up with a friendly glance. but no. since we had actually pulled up slightly behind him, he therefore turned his body to look behind him and gave the staredown to check us out for a good ten seconds, which is an eternity in this sort of situation. sick.
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