Ah! It's good to see that you've tuned in again, or rather logged on again, to catch up with (failed) attempts to be socially acceptable. Well today I went to town, and actually bought enough at WHSmith to warrant needing a plastic bag as opposed to simply shoving everything into my conventional one.
Well, I'd like to talk to you today about a phenomenon I experience frequently. Again, this may be a phenomenon that you yourself experience occasionally. It is similar in many ways to the experience of many of my friends have had where the elderly have mistaken their hoodies for one's that have the words "I Am Coming to Mug You, Old Lady" written on them. I apparently aren't threatening enough. All an Old Lady thinks when she sees me is "I could probably have him" (not, like, in that way, but, never mind). I however have been known to suffer from a related phenomenon which has the same origins, that is to say the current climate of paranoia.
The situation will go like this: I'll be walking down the street when ahead of me I'll notice that someone else is walking. No biggie, two people walking down the same street at the same time is hardly what you'd describe as an uncommon occurrence. However, as we continue down the same street at the same time, the other person (almost invariably female) will occasionally glance backwards at me and may increase her step. It's at this point that I realise something, "Oh God," I think to myself, inwardly blushing "She thinks I'm stalking her."
This may just be in my imagination, but I'm almost certain this is the case. The problem is after that, the only thing I can do is try my best to appear as non-threatening as possible which almost never works because all the activities that you can do to make it seem like you're not stalking them (Crossing the road and walking on that side for a time, increasing your pace in order to pass them or decreasing it to move further back, fiddling with your phone or iPod) are precisely the same things that someone stalking them would do to try and convince them that they are not doing so. The only appropriate response I've found is to hold out for them to take a different route to you, thus thankfully ending the awkwardness.
Now, listen here, women of the world, I know I may look like one, but I'm not a stalker. You have no need to worry about me raping or mugging anyone. Sure, I'm not above being gripped by a sudden urge to check out whatever bands just so happen to next to the ones that the attractive young woman in HMV is looking at, as if somehow physical proximity to this attractive young woman makes conversation with any more likely than if I'd been on the far side of Callisto, especially since I inevitably chicken out, fail to make any further advances and skulk off to the back of the shop to look at games with the other shy males of the generations. But stalk? Nope. If nothing else, it's far too much hard work.
Now this may be all in my head and part of my innate paranoia that the Universe hates me, I'll warrant, but I'd like to describe to you a very specific example of this that occurred to me a couple of months back. I was on a bus making my way back from the town centre. The bus was incredibly crowded as it almost always is at this time of day. I am listening to my iPod and staring into blank space. After a while I noticed that this particular area of blank space had eyes, and a face, and a slightly creeped-out expression that was directed at me. Upon realising this I hastily started to look out of the window.
With embarrassment washing through me in great waves, I eventually found the compulsion nagging me to loom back at this person to see if they were still looking at me. She was, or rather I believe had just turned to me to see if that weirdo at the front of the bus was still perving on her. Once more I hastily turned away vowing not to look at her again.
After 15 minutes I looked at the front of the bus to where the road to see where abouts I was when I noticed out of the corner of my eye that the girl appeared to be sleeping. Surely that was quite an unusual thing to be doing, especially on a bus that did not go particularly far or was running particularly late at night. However, once I was content that, yes, we were nowhere near my house yet, I continued to look out of my window. "Was she really sleeping?" an errant voice in my head muttered then would not stop muttering. I decided that one more look couldn't hurt. After all, her eyes were closed in sleep. I looked up.
Just as her eyes opened and connected with mine.
No one's gaze has ever moved more quickly as mine did then. I turned my head so sharply my neck cricked and my eyes so fast they left burns in my sockets. "That's it!" I said to myself "That's three strikes of staring at someone! No more!" After some time, I began to relax. I was on the last stop, she must get off earlier than I do.
She got off at the same stop.
What the Hell!? What are the chances? WHY DO YOU DO THIS TO ME UNIVERSE!?
Not only that, but she had pressed the stop-button first, making it look like I had seen that she was getting off and had decided to join her! The few seconds I spent behind her were the most awkward ones in my life. I hoped and prayed that at the very least, she would go a different direction than I did.
So, readers, do you think that the Universe allowed me this minor mercy?
Did it f*ck.
I had to follow her to get to my home wanting to scream all the way: "I AM NOT A STALKER!". Luckily, she finally entered a house and I have never seen anyone unlock and open a door as quick.
Looking back over this, I realise that most of you must be thinking I'm certifiably paranoid and am ascribing emotions to strangers that you cannot possibly have any inkling as to the minds of. But it gives me great happiness to think that somewhere out there in the world, a girl is telling this exact same story only with a darker tone and the title "The Time I Nearly Got Raped by a Madman"
Funnily enough, I actually thought I was this very person in town the other day. I had no idea what my reaction to this should be, so I decided to give her a knowing smile and a wink.
Well, not really, but it does make a better punchline to an over-long anecdote to merely abruptly and unsatisfying ending.
Anyway, take care readers and always remember: You can't make someone love you. You can only stalk them and hope for the best.
Well, I'd like to talk to you today about a phenomenon I experience frequently. Again, this may be a phenomenon that you yourself experience occasionally. It is similar in many ways to the experience of many of my friends have had where the elderly have mistaken their hoodies for one's that have the words "I Am Coming to Mug You, Old Lady" written on them. I apparently aren't threatening enough. All an Old Lady thinks when she sees me is "I could probably have him" (not, like, in that way, but, never mind). I however have been known to suffer from a related phenomenon which has the same origins, that is to say the current climate of paranoia.
The situation will go like this: I'll be walking down the street when ahead of me I'll notice that someone else is walking. No biggie, two people walking down the same street at the same time is hardly what you'd describe as an uncommon occurrence. However, as we continue down the same street at the same time, the other person (almost invariably female) will occasionally glance backwards at me and may increase her step. It's at this point that I realise something, "Oh God," I think to myself, inwardly blushing "She thinks I'm stalking her."
This may just be in my imagination, but I'm almost certain this is the case. The problem is after that, the only thing I can do is try my best to appear as non-threatening as possible which almost never works because all the activities that you can do to make it seem like you're not stalking them (Crossing the road and walking on that side for a time, increasing your pace in order to pass them or decreasing it to move further back, fiddling with your phone or iPod) are precisely the same things that someone stalking them would do to try and convince them that they are not doing so. The only appropriate response I've found is to hold out for them to take a different route to you, thus thankfully ending the awkwardness.
Now, listen here, women of the world, I know I may look like one, but I'm not a stalker. You have no need to worry about me raping or mugging anyone. Sure, I'm not above being gripped by a sudden urge to check out whatever bands just so happen to next to the ones that the attractive young woman in HMV is looking at, as if somehow physical proximity to this attractive young woman makes conversation with any more likely than if I'd been on the far side of Callisto, especially since I inevitably chicken out, fail to make any further advances and skulk off to the back of the shop to look at games with the other shy males of the generations. But stalk? Nope. If nothing else, it's far too much hard work.
Now this may be all in my head and part of my innate paranoia that the Universe hates me, I'll warrant, but I'd like to describe to you a very specific example of this that occurred to me a couple of months back. I was on a bus making my way back from the town centre. The bus was incredibly crowded as it almost always is at this time of day. I am listening to my iPod and staring into blank space. After a while I noticed that this particular area of blank space had eyes, and a face, and a slightly creeped-out expression that was directed at me. Upon realising this I hastily started to look out of the window.
With embarrassment washing through me in great waves, I eventually found the compulsion nagging me to loom back at this person to see if they were still looking at me. She was, or rather I believe had just turned to me to see if that weirdo at the front of the bus was still perving on her. Once more I hastily turned away vowing not to look at her again.
After 15 minutes I looked at the front of the bus to where the road to see where abouts I was when I noticed out of the corner of my eye that the girl appeared to be sleeping. Surely that was quite an unusual thing to be doing, especially on a bus that did not go particularly far or was running particularly late at night. However, once I was content that, yes, we were nowhere near my house yet, I continued to look out of my window. "Was she really sleeping?" an errant voice in my head muttered then would not stop muttering. I decided that one more look couldn't hurt. After all, her eyes were closed in sleep. I looked up.
Just as her eyes opened and connected with mine.
No one's gaze has ever moved more quickly as mine did then. I turned my head so sharply my neck cricked and my eyes so fast they left burns in my sockets. "That's it!" I said to myself "That's three strikes of staring at someone! No more!" After some time, I began to relax. I was on the last stop, she must get off earlier than I do.
She got off at the same stop.
What the Hell!? What are the chances? WHY DO YOU DO THIS TO ME UNIVERSE!?
Not only that, but she had pressed the stop-button first, making it look like I had seen that she was getting off and had decided to join her! The few seconds I spent behind her were the most awkward ones in my life. I hoped and prayed that at the very least, she would go a different direction than I did.
So, readers, do you think that the Universe allowed me this minor mercy?
Did it f*ck.
I had to follow her to get to my home wanting to scream all the way: "I AM NOT A STALKER!". Luckily, she finally entered a house and I have never seen anyone unlock and open a door as quick.
Looking back over this, I realise that most of you must be thinking I'm certifiably paranoid and am ascribing emotions to strangers that you cannot possibly have any inkling as to the minds of. But it gives me great happiness to think that somewhere out there in the world, a girl is telling this exact same story only with a darker tone and the title "The Time I Nearly Got Raped by a Madman"
Funnily enough, I actually thought I was this very person in town the other day. I had no idea what my reaction to this should be, so I decided to give her a knowing smile and a wink.
Well, not really, but it does make a better punchline to an over-long anecdote to merely abruptly and unsatisfying ending.
Anyway, take care readers and always remember: You can't make someone love you. You can only stalk them and hope for the best.
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