A new Subway opened up across the street from me a few weeks ago. Since it's so conveniently nearby, hasn't been around long enough to turn seedy yet, offers somewhat healthier fare than the Burger King and KFC just around the corner, and saves me from the chore of actually having to cook something for myself (let's put it this way: I make really great omelets...and that's it), I've patronized this establishment pretty often already. I decided to pick something up from there on my way home tonight.
Incidentally, I live in a pretty trashy neighborhood. Literally. As in, there's garbage all over the place. The sidewalks can get pretty hazardous on sanitation day. They're usually streaked with rivulets of what I can only imagine is toxic sludge leaking from the mountains of plastic bags piled up on the curbs. Then there are all the other obstacles blocking the path and requiring avoidance — you know, those common, everyday yet unwieldy items, like...mattresses. There's never a scarcity of paper plates, plastic bags and empty bottles on the ground, pick-up day or not. And during the summer, all pet owners within a 10-mile radius collectively forget about the "curb your dog" laws.
So, expectedly, during the winter, not every walkway gets shoveled in a timely or efficient manner after it snows. In the half a block I need to traverse to get to the Subway, there are about 8 slush puddles, a couple patches of black ice, and a gigantic plow-created drift spilling into the crosswalk on the corner.
As I'm waiting for the light and devising a strategem to somehow get over or around the pile of snow in front of me, I notice a cute guy walking in my direction. I'm brazenly gazing at him in admiration as he passes by, when he suddenly stops and turns around, heading back in my direction. OMG — did he notice me?? Is he coming back to say I've so stunned him with my beauty and superb fashion sense that he simply couldn't resist the opportunity to steal another look and get my number?!? How does my hair look??
He stops a few steps away from me, bends down, picks a cigarette butt out of the snow drift, and tosses it in the trash can behind him. Then he smiles right at me before walking away.
This small act so warms my heart I'm almost sure it could melt all the snow in my way.
I totally should have got his number.
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This reminds me that in reading back through some of your other posts (and I'm not a stalker, truly I'm not. I just recently found your blog and love it so am catching up as I have time) that there was one post about talking to people one-on-one and how difficult that is and I thought that I might have something relevant to say. Not relevant in that it is advice but relevant in that it is just an outside observation. I'll do that soon if you don't think it is too weird to comment on an old post. Is that bad blogger etiquette? Not sure. You totally should have gotten his number and invited him to Subway to share your foot long.
ReplyDeleteComment away! Etiquette be damned! :)
ReplyDelete...but I am a stalker! :)
ReplyDeleteMy web friend Becca, has to endure my almost daily comments, and she does it gracefully. No insults yet. at least not the kind I can understand with my broken English...
Becca! you should've taken the guy's phone number. Come on, what can be scary about that? I mean, after your brave Twitt to Monsieur Negative, I thought you were inmune.
I will always remember my very first stalker. :) And Twitter-ing is the opposite of brave. I'm outrageous when I've got a computer screen to hide behind. Out on the street, not so much. EVERYTHING about that is scary. I think it's Asperger's.
ReplyDeleteOkay, well this is my thought: I prefer writing to talking and feel it's easier because I can change it before I send it until I get it just right. I can take my time. I'm not looking at somebody's face and having to read their body language or facial expressions, which, if I was, might totally F*ck up what I thought I wanted to say and something that might have been brilliant, insightful and coherent inside my brain comes out sounding like "Jsskeee? mwahhhh, misektshgleitnh. Prosiethsaike!!!" in person. That's just me, though. Might not apply to you. I used to use a trick for starting conversations at events where I didn't know people. I'd hang out near the food and say to someone I thought might be interesting, "Hey, I love your shoes, where did you get them?" But you've probably already heard that before. Good luck with the Subway/Cigarette sweeper guy. Maybe you'll see him again soon. Nice to meet you Dalia. Every Blogger needs a stalker, right?
ReplyDeleteAsperger?
ReplyDeleteDoes that mean I'm stalkin Rain Man? LOL
Good for my self esteem!
Nice to meet you too, The Chicken etc... :)
Can I call you TCHC?
Yes. Dad lets me drive slow in the driveway. >:)
ReplyDeleteI can't even do the "I like your [accessory], where did you get it?" line because after they tell me I'm usually just like, "Oh. Cool." and the conversation stalls. And then I get all self-conscious and paranoid that MY [accessory] isn't as cool as theirs and that they're silently making fun of me for it. So, yeah, that never ends well...
Okay, so you need a follow up line. Like if they say I got them at "Banana Republic" you say, "Oh, I love their white t-shirts-they are so...white?" Okay I don't know. I kind of suck at it, too. Good luck:-)
ReplyDeleteDalia B, sure you can call me that. I think. What does HC stand for?
Dalia doesn't speak English. She probably doesn't know what it means either. :D (Joking!)
ReplyDeleteT The
ReplyDeleteCH Chicken
C Consigliere
Me not tok inglish
:))
I think everyone is braver over the internet. I have trouble talking to guys in person too. it's so awkward.
ReplyDelete