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weird dudes

For some reason, I have had my fair share of ‘weird dude experiences’ (WDE).  In fact, I’m sure if you get a group of women in their 20s and 30s together, you could have a little festival to celebrate surviving multiple WDE.

When I was a young teenager I ran into a lot of the ‘psst’ guys.  Mostly kinda old [20s or older, sometimes MUCH older], sometimes grody-lookin’ dudes who decided that the best method of getting my attention was doing a stage whispered ‘PSST!’ repeatedly, until I looked their way.  The first time this happened to me, naive as I was, I thought there was actually something the dude wanted to tell me.  Like – information or something.

I learned.

And it only took one time for me to begin to completely ignore these weirdos.  Completely ignore in the way of being completely aware of them and their spatial relationship with me at all times until we are no longer in any real proximity, but not actually making any eye contact or speaking.  Not out of fear so much, as just uncomfortable-ness.  I actually tend not to be afraid, sometimes when [in retrospect] perhaps I should have been.

My dad tells me that guys do this because it works.  That’s actually kind of upsetting, if it’s true.

Then, there are other dudes.  Random weird dudes that approach you because – why?  I’m not entirely sure.  Maybe I’m not having enough fun and he’s just the man for me – that could be it, every once in a while I get some old dude hollering at me about how I should have a smile on my face.  That is freakin’ annoying.  That’s happened to me ever since I was a kid, and I don’t really understand it.  Yeah yeah yeah, we all learned that it takes more muscles to frown than to smile – but I had to actually sit my dad down and talk to him about that: “It still takes some muscles to smile.  Why can’t I just not have an expression, sometimes?”

Not to mention the fact that sometimes I am not in the mood to smile, and I believe I have that right.

but I digress.

Weird dudes approach – in any locale – and sometimes get as far as asking for my number.  Now, when there’s forethought, sometimes I can tell a good lie.  ‘Good’ in that it’s believable and delivered well.  But most of the time, in the midst of a WDE, I’m uncomfortable and maybe a little flustered – this is a combination that often leads to the straight up truth.  I think I’ve ended up giving out my real number twice, cuz of that.  Both times were big mistakes, but at least they didn’t turn out to be crazy maniac killers.

Thank God.

My biggest problem was that I didn’t have callerID or screen (w/my answering machine, as I do now) at the time, and every time the phone rang it was a nightmare.

But apparently a poor girl named Olga has won this year’s award for top WDE. (via Shakesville)

(transcript)

That WDE would freak the crap outta me.

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