Amalthea (amaltheae) wrote,
Amalthea
amaltheae

I am not sure why, but I seem to attract really terrifying people.

Today, I was in the fabric store, and this guy seemed to sort of be mumbling to himself and looming nearby. I figured he was on an errand for his spouse and confused or something. I thought nothing more of him, nor registered him any more significantly. I was contemplating whether I needed any patterns or could figure a project out on my own. I was being indecisive and thus stood there for a bit.

Eventually, the guy comes up and says "You are really hot. You are so sexy. Are you involved with anyone?"

I was fairly alarmed at this behavior, having assumed he was shopping for a spouse. I looked up in suprise, and as he got within six feet of me, I could smell so much cigarette smoke coming off this man that he might as well have been a chimney.

For those of you who do not know me that well, smoking about number three on the list of absolute turn-offs behind murderers and rapists. I can't stand the habit, I don't want to be near it, and I don't care if Jesus came down from heaven and bequeethed you the greatest dick on earth, if you smell like cigarette smoke, I want no part of it. So his chances were entirely null and void.

But hey, I figure I can be kind at least, right? It's usually really hard for people to ask someone out out of the blue, and he did it. Well so I say thanks but that yes, I am involved already. As he has no chance with me due to the stench he's eminating, I neglect to mention anything about being poly or the fact that I am actually involved with multiple people. None of his business, not the norm, and easier to get rid of him without sharing.

He says "Oh. Well, maybe I could get your number and we could get together at some point? Can I have your number? You're so hot."

By this point I am begining to wonder about his sobriety, having actually made eye contact and noticed that he had that look of a long time alcoholic who wasn't maybe completely drunk right then, but it had sort of made his face blood shot.

The other reason that I decided he wasn't entirely sober was that he had an erection in his jeans which is something that most sober men tend to be rather embarassed about, and attempt to be discreet about. Having met my share of perverts, including a couple of flashers who really wanted me to be impressed with their elephant dick that clearly sucked away so much blood that their brain couldn't function to to tell them that campus security was about to arrest them for leaving it hanging out of their pants to impress people, he really wasn't clearly a whacker, either. Most perverts attempt to show you or otherwise draw attention to it being there. He was doing neither. It was just there.

But I figure, no need to be rude, right? Most people wouldn't have noticed the erection on first pass over him with the way that his leather jacket hung to his hips and his hands were in his jacket pockets, semi obstructing the view. He wasn't being agressive, really, just desperate. I said "no, but thank you."

He says "please can I have your number?" By this point I am thinking "wingnut". So I suggest he give me his number in an effort to get him to go away and sleep off the drunk.

He says "OH, NO, I couldn't do that. ... Well, maybe I could if you say you're calling about house repairs or something. I will give you my number and you give me yours."

Despite being poly, I am frankly floored by this behavior and thus cannot imagine how me must come across to most women he tries to flirt with or come onto.

You say, "I say "You know what? I appreciate the complements, but I think I need to pass." And I walk to the next aisle.

He follows me.

He says "You are sooooooooo sexy. Are you sure you won't give me your number? I reeeeeeeealy want to get together with you."

I say "Sorry, no."

This repeats for about three aisle of wandering off to continue my shopping, him asking about if I have free time or whatever other angle he can come up with. And then finally he sort of heads to the other side of a set of aisles but is still clearly watching me. Then about five minutes later he walks by me again and says "I hope you don't mind that I was admiring you. You are so hot, I just can't believe it."

And then without waiting further for a response, he finally leaves for real.

I suspect that many women would have felt threatened and registered him as a stalker.

I wasn't particularly because I was pretty sure he was intoxicated, I was maybe only an inch shorter than him and he wasn't all that well built and I am very good at managing the space around me to keep him at a distance and be ready knock him unconscious if necessary. Most women would probably have left the store crying dialing 911. He was so failing to take a hint.

I is generally not easily intimidated in such situations. I have to really believe you win in skill and strength and size, or at least weaponry, before it's really much of a threat to me. I suspect if I had been radiating upset more, he'd have taken a hint better, which has its good and bad sides. But I had a shopping cart and size and sobriety and very probably a much better understanding of anatomy, and definately a better understanding of psychology on my side, so he didn't really alarm me. By the end I was torn between amused and sad for him that his life had brought him to that moment and that much unhappy desperation and want.

He was nice looking if you edited out the effects of too much alcohol. It made me wonder about his life story once he was finally gone. It did make me smile to know that my ass bent over grabbing a book was enough to cause an adult man a spontaneous erection and to tell me he thought I was hot and to ask me out. It was flattering in its own way, though I think that part would have been lost on most women because he would set off more fear than appreciation in most.

But I can't help but wonder what it takes for a grown man to be looking lost in a fabric store, drunk and desperate and without more social skills than that. There are probably women to whom he could even seem suave in a smarmy assertiveness sort of way. If you grew up in a trailer park and had at best an average IQ, he might seem like an acceptable catch. Especially since clearly large women turn him on and large women from poverty tend to have even more emotional issues than most about wanting to be loved. I suspect there are people with whom his approach might actually work.

That was an alarming realization. He seemed really flustered by the fact that I was nice to him, clearly accepted the complement for what was there, but also wasn't in the least interested in him.

So, anyway, that is my little bit of observation of how to live most of my choices in exactly the wrong way, ie, cheating, lying, hiding, drinking, covering it all up, pushing people to cheat too, etc. I truthfully hope that somehow he finds help and figures out how to manage his needs and attractions in a healthy way. And I hope somehow he finds rehab. I would not wish that state of desperation and need and lonliness and akwardness on anyone, not even him however innapropriate he was being to me.
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