Monday, March 7, 2011

Why I Stay Indoors.

     I'm a homebody, and I like it.  Sometimes I forget why I prefer home to going out, so I venture out into the world, and then I am loudly reminded.
     A few examples:  When I put my ear buds in and I'm standing in a line, it is because I don't want to interact.  Some people don't get that, or they see it as a personal challenge.  Judge my choice if you will, but I wanted a little snack and was craving some Taco Bell.  I haven't had Taco Bell in years, and I just wanted something with gooey cheese in it.  I went in the combination KFC/Taco Bell and stared at the menu.  When I got in line, there was a gentleman who got in line right behind me.  I had my ear buds in, but not up so loud I couldn't hear what was going on around me.
     He mumbled something about going ahead of him, and I thought he was saying I cut in line.  I had never been in this location before, so maybe I stood in the wrong line.  I tried to let him go, ask if I had cut, because that was not my intention.  He said he was just joking around.  Great.  I face forward again, and read the menu.  Yes, I'm the asshole who doesn't know what's on the menu.
     Then mumbler asks me something else about what's good on the menu.  Now I'm trying to walk the line between not wanted to be rude, but wanting to be left alone.  I take my ear buds out and turn to him, saying "I can't hear, because I'm trying to listen to my music.  What?"  Then he mumbles more nonsense about what's good or good for you at KFC/Taco Bell. This goes on for a while, through the entire process of ordering and waiting.  I keep putting my ear buds back in, and he keeps trying to talk to me.  He makes comments like "I'm just trying to be friendly.  Smile."  He is apparently not good at reading social clues.
     I get my cheesy roll up and he asks me if we can sit down so he can talk to me, apparently about any multi-racial ancestors I may or may not have.  Hell to the no.  I have friends waiting for me, I have to leave as fast as I possibly can. Sorry, Taco Bell, I know it's not your fault, but I won't be back soon.
     A few days later, I get invited to go to a bar for an early St. Patrick's Day celebration.  Again, I forgot what being in public was like, so I headed out.  Fighting through the parade was bad enough, but then the stereo-typical bar behavior began.  I forgot that I was actually just an object, and I was supposed to let men talk at me however they wanted.  And also, I should know my place as the friend, the buffer, the third wheel, what have you.
     Out of the blue some guy says "You know what's not a good movie? 'The Runaways.'  Don't waste your time.  I'm kind of a movie connoisseur."  Amazing, I'm lucky enough to meet the one guy who understands movies well enough to judge a poorly received quasi-bio-pic about the first all female rock-and-roll band almost a year after its release.  Thanks buddy.  You sure blew my mind.  
     There were a few other verbal sparring matches throughout the evening, most ending with the declarative statement "you're a bitch."  Yes, I am.  And I'm right too.  Overall, it was kind of disgusting.  Someone commented on my eyes, which is a nice compliment, but it's tired by now.  Luckily he followed it up my commenting on my breasts.  Except he called them knockers.  Ah, that felt good.
     I think the sting of being in public this time will stick with me for a while.  I like my couch, and the color of my walls aren't so bad.   My floors aren't sticky, I don't have cheap beer, and no one interrupts me when I have my ear buds in.

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