Well, as you all know by now, I have finally found a job. It's not going to make me rich, but I'm hoping it'll at least pay my bills - with enough left over for some semblance of a social life. As I'm learning the ropes at the restaurant, I'm also learning more about my new city - namely, that the men are perverts. Bold perverts.
For the past few days, I've had some of the regulars at the diner chat me up. It began innocently at first, but quickly escalated to eyes following my every move. I don't mind it that much - the men seem harmless and I am a waitress, after all. I was warned about the one guy though; My boss pulled me aside and told me to let him know if the guy got "hands-y." So there's that to look forward to.
On my way to work today, I wasn't paying attention on the bus and got off at the wrong stop. Thankfully, I had given myself plenty of time to get there, so I started walking. Just as the diner entered my sight line, a white pickup truck pulled up beside me. I thousand scenarios flashed through my head: rapist, drug lord, murderer, needs directions, creep, sex slavery, thinks I'm a hooker, etc... He rolled down his passenger window and asked my name. I smiled, shook my head, and began to walk away. He shouted, "you're beautiful! You're gorgeous!" I laughed and said, "what the hell are you talking about?!" He then asked me to accompany him to a party at the Playboy Mansion next month. (My responses throughout this conversation varied from "Oh my God" to "You're nuts.") He looked around, then whispered, "it's a lingerie party." Here I was thinking it was a Tupperware party. Thanks for clarifying, creepy Mexican man.
As I began to walk away, he shouted out the standard questions. Are you married? Where are you from? And my favorite: "What's your sign?" I told him apologetically that I had to get to work. He told me he had done an illegal u-turn to tell me how beautiful I am. Then he asked me if I've ever has Hennessey. Um.
I finally managed to get away from him - don't worry, I didn't go into work until he was gone. I don't need a stalker.
After work, I took the bus home. As I got off, I heard a soft accent in my ear.
"You American?"
I turned around, startled. There was a well dressed man in his 60s at my elbow carrying a cane. He was wearing sunglasses, even though today is overcast and rainy. He asked again. I grimaced and nodded. I was in a crowd of people, so I knew nothing would happen. Unless he Dexter Morgan'ed me, told people he was my father and that I had passed out, and carried me off to his waiting town car. Hmm...didn't think of that at the time...
Once I confirmed that yes, I was American, he continued with a series of questions. Did I have children? Was I married? Did I want to be? Then he offered me $1000 cash to marry him. I laughed, thinking this was only a lonely old man pulling my leg. Then he started referring to "we," as in "we pay big money." I was starting to get really uncomfortable. He began to beg me. I kept saying, "no thank you," and giggling uncomfortably. As I crossed the street to walk towards my apartment, he was still trailing behind me. I knew I had to lose him - I definitely didn't want this guy knowing where I live. So I turned around one more time and gave him a firm "NO, thank you." I walked away, glancing behind me every 2 seconds until he finally wandered away.
I'm pretty sure I was about to be sold into sex slavery. I really need to stop oozing sexuality. Or maybe just listen to my iPod on the bus from now on to deter Hostel-like situations.
