47: creepo

So, there I was, on another 7-a.m.-er on a Sunday morning, drooling against the rail at the subway.

I was siting on the steps, when a Mexican guy awoke me. “Excuse me, is this train headed to Queens?”

Well, no shit, old man, I thought, looking up at the sign that said it all itself. Instead, I politely nodded, quickly closing my eyes again.

“Excuse me,” he interrupted again 30 seconds later. I opened my eyes and looked at him, who was now positioning himself comfortably next to me on the steps. “How are you tonight?” he turned and smiled.

Oh god, I thought. Here we go. Fine, bla bla bla — the inevitable talk was happening, and I hoped the train would come faster. It didn’t. Half an hour later, we were still talking. But the train finally showed up. Of course, that was no consolation: He made sure to sit next to me and watch me the whole time, as if I was his own precious gem. “May I have your number?” he asked. Umm no why would you even ask that; you’r 20 years my senior, old man, go the f*&% away, ok bye!!! I thought. “No, sorry, I’d rather not,” I said aloud.

I closed my eyes again, hoping he’d disappear. He didn’t. “You’re beautiful,” he said — for the fifth time — next to me on the train. “Thanks,” I kept saying and closing my eyes again. Imagine if I were drunk.

I was drunk tonight earlier a little. Not a lot, but I felt happy enough to laugh about my email exchange with good old boy. He said he had been stupid all along and was sorry. Of course he was, and I was glad to realize that for once he was right: He most definitely had been stupid. I told him that I agreed and despite all that I always meant for us to be friends, because I thought he was fun to hang out with. He agreed — about me being the same, not him. And thus, our friendship was patched up and we were ready to hang out again. Weird.

So what were me and old man doing next to each other on the train then, him inching closer and closer when I’d already resolved and sealed the distance in my life? Who knows. “Let me just give you on kiss on the cheek, you’re so beautiful,” he suddenly said. Umm, no! He was gross, and I coudln’t believe he asked that.

And then suddenly … ((drumroll)) … the Indian guy sitting across from me came to my rescue:

“What are you doing, man? Stop — you’re bothering this girl. Do you know what this is called? Sexual harassment. Leave her alone.”

He was seriously upset. Mexi next to me became subdued, then quickly said bye when the train stopped, and he got up and left. The Indian guy got up to then too, and as he walked out, I thanked him. “Be safe,” he said gently. How sweet.

Can there be more guys like that out there? Just simply caring and gentle, whether you’re their sister or a stranger who resembles their sister? As independent as we are, there is nothing more flattering than a male stranger coming to your rescue after a creep has put all his cards on the table and is waiting for you to take charge.

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About tali2

I am a recent grad of the wonderful English major. Though I don't regret studying English one bit, I realize why my teachers, parents, friends, and imaginary mentors warned me against it: Because it leads you nowhere. But it did give me great writing skills which I hope to continue honing in this blog as I chronicle the tribulations of the terrible job hunt in the terrible job market of NYC. And I hope that my blog reminds fellow unemployed recent grads that you are not alone, inspires some hope within us, while presenting a snapshot of our lives to others who do not share the same self-imposed troubles.
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