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stud (haha) magnet For some strange paranormal inexplicable reason, I seem to have a sign around my neck that says 'Please, really, please, hit on me', which, for a stranger and more paranormal reason, can only be read by weird scary European guys. Weird Scary European Guy (WSEG) #1: Yesterday as I was walking down Spencer St., just me and Rob Thomas wallowing in my walkman, suddenly this strange guy was walking beside me. You know that uncomfortable feeling when a total stranger somehow matches your pace on the street and you try hard to ignore this person or at least not to be moving in parallel with him by moving either slower or faster but still can't seem to lose him? I had to pretend I was truly engaged in some truly scenic view in the opposite direction as I try to wish him into the state of Unbeing. "Excuse me, but is this Elizabeth St.?" Being the ever helpful tourist guide to hapless tourists who are lost in this great city of Melbourne for fear they'll die of dehydration and varicose veins for having walked too much, I so politely said, No, this is Spencer St., Elizabeth St. is another block that way. "Oh, are you Indonesian?" Here we go. I told him I'm a Malaysian (didn't feel like it was a dangerous piece of information). Then he went on asking where I live. Beginning to tread on dangerous territory now. Oh, quite far from here, actually. Somewhere in the city. (made mental note to self to lie better next time. We are in the city, you idiot. How far can you be from the city when you're in the city?). He told me he was from France. "Do you want my address so you can come for a visit sometime?" Err. Thanks. But I don't go out a lot. Continued to pretend I was truly absorbed in some magnificient sights in a direction opposite of him. Finally had to wait at a traffic light and when it went green I went straight ahead without even glancing at him. Thought I was being really rude but hey, I was more concerned about my own safety and I wasn't carrying a pepper spray. After what I thought was a safe distance I glanced back and saw this guy walking in the opposite direction of where we were coming from. So he was just following me then? It was a pretty scary thought, but anyway, crisis over. The rest of the walk was WSEG-free. WSEG #2: This was at a party we had at my building. I was having an innocent can of Coke and chatting with my new friends at the party when this guy walked up to us. He introduced himself to us in a thick, barely-comprehensible accent. What with the loud music in the background I just kept nodding and laughing politely to whatever the guy was going on about. I think he's Greek. Both as in heritage and the fact he was totally indecipherable. "So do you have a boyfriend here?" Umm. No. (kicked myself) "Do you have a boyfriend back in Malaysia?" Ah. Um. Yes, actually. But we're not quite sure what's going on between us right now. You know, we're, kinda, between things right now. (lame, but better) "What's your extension number?" Wow, this guy is not afraid of my tough fictitious boyfriend back in Malaysia. I should've come up with a more compelling story. I actually gave this guy my actual extension number since I was worried that he might call some other unlucky innocent girl if I just pluck numbers from the air. I'm too selfless for my own good. The guy actually called a couple of times but I kept saying I'm going out with my friends and am drowned with work each time he suggested anything. WSEG #3: This is my first encounter with the WSEG kind. So pardon my inexperience in handling the delicate situation. I was walking in the city when suddenly this guy came up beside me and asked if he can walk with me (notice the basic similarity in WSEG #3 and WSEG #1's modus operandi. Turned out they were from the same country, France. Maybe that explains something.). I didn't want to create a scene, so being polite as ever, I said sure. It wasn't like I can sprint into a 800m dash to get away without being rude. We chatted for a bit and I was being quite truthful most of the time except for when he asked where I live and whether I live alone. He told me he was here touring, so the tourist guide in me thought it can't hurt just to point this guy to some nice places in the city. He asked if we could go for a drink. Each time I think back, I should've said no, but again, I was too polite to. Sure, coffee would be nice. And safe. So we went to look for a nice cafe. Suddenly he was holding my hand. "I like you." I was totally freaking out but tried to keep my composure. You know, you French people might find this sort of behaviour pretty normal, but this is really making me uncomfortable. "But I really like you." I was racking my brain trying to think of what people in the movies say when confronted with such situation. I came up with the you-know-it's-very-nice-of-you-but-we've-really-just-met sort of line. This guy was really persistent, I'm telling you. I had to keep my hands contstantly lodged in my jeans pockets. Even with that he had the nerve to pull it out. He said more things and I said more things but I can't really remember now since this happened last year. To make the story short, we had coffee, then I said I had to leave because my friends are waiting for me. So those are my foreign, exotic tales of trysts and passion. I'm keeping a tab and wonder if I can hit double digits by the time I graduate. It's a faint hope, but at least it's a hope.
listening to: reading:
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