boo-boo

I was on my way to the grocery store last weekend, when someone started walking along side of me. At first I didn’t think anything of it because it was a beautiful day and the streets were really crowded. Then I heard:

Excuse me BooBoo, can I talk to you for a minute.

I was shocked that someone was actually using “BooBoo” as a term of endearment and I slowly turned my head to see if it was a joke. The man walking next to me was staring at me, dead serious and from the looks of it, incredibly high.

I smiled and said “no thank you.” His response was

“It’s ’cause I’m black, right?”

Immediately about 5 different responses flooded my head:

What the fuck are you talking about, I’m black myself.

No, it’s because you just called me BooBoo

No, it’s because I’m just not interested.

No, it’s because you look like you’re high as fuck.

No, it’s because you look like you have no job, no education, and hang out at the corner store all day.

Instead I briefly paused, took a deep breath, and kept it moving. As I walked away I hear “yeah, it’s ’cause I’m black.”

Meanwhile, in the Tinderverse, here are some gems that either myself or my friends have come across:

tinder guy 3

tinder guy1

tinder guy2

Keep it classy fellas…..

wtf

A few weekends ago (Labor Day Weekend), I experienced the most bizarre sequence of events…

Friday, “the racist” texted me to ask what I was up to for the holiday. I honestly had no desire to see him again, but I figured I’d give him one more chance. I told him that I didn’t have any plans, and asked him the same question…and he never responded back.

Ok, no big deal.

Then the next day at around 3pm he texts me:

“I’m on my way to Brooklyn for the Guinness festival. I’ll drink plenty of beer in your honor”

Huh?

First of all, I’m not dead. You don’t have to drink in my honor or poor some out for the homies. Second, why would you even bother letting me know you are going to be in my area if you aren’t going to invite me to hang out? Why bother even reaching out?

Considering the fact that I was already pretty over this dude based on his ignorant comments the week before, I didn’t bother responding to his text. I was done.

Later that night, my friend and I decided to head to a bar in Williamsburg for a little change of pace.

It was pretty dead so we decided to leave after a couple of drinks.

We were waiting on the G train platform when this guy walks by and checks my friend out. He was clearly intoxicated, so we paid him no mind. Then he stumbles back and tells my friend, in a very thick Russian accent, how beautiful he thinks she is. Then he call her his Mexican Princess.

She’s Salvadoran.

She tells him she’s not Mexican and he then continues to guess what nationality she is. After about 5 guesses he gives up, then starts to sing a song to her in Spanish.

I’m talking full verses, a chorus and a hook.

The train finally came and we ended up ditching him.

I had to transfer to another train to get home. As I’m waiting on the platform, a man who looked like he might have been homeless approached me. Here was the conversation:

Him: Do you smoke weed?

Me: Nope.

Him: Oh my God, your nose ring is gorgeous!

Me: Thanks.

Him: I think I just fell in love with you.

Me: Ok.

Him: What’s your name?

Me: Amber

Him: Ooh did you ever watch Clueless.

Me: Yep.

Him: I used to love her! (referring to the woman who played “Amber” in the movie)

Me: Oh ok.

Him: No..but really. I mean…I used to (imitates jerking off) looooove her.

Me: Oh. Wow. Ok.

Him: Like…I used to be a squirter for her.

Me: Awesome.

Him: So are you single?

Me: Nope.

Him: Do you have any friends that look like you?

Me: Nope.

Him: Oh..do you drink? Me and You and Your friends should all hang out. And I can be a squirter for your friends.

Me: Nope. I think I’m good. No thanks. Have a nice night though.

Him: OK.

He then walked up to another man on the platform and asked him if HE smoked weed.

Jump to 2:30am

I get another text from the racist: “you been drinking watermelon?!”

For those of you who don’t know, these are lyrics to a very popular Beyoncé song. The theory is that when she says “I’ve been drinking…watermelon…” she’s talking about swallowing.

Sorry to be so blunt, but I tried to word it in classier terms, but really…how can you make swallowing sound classy?

Of course i was immediately offended, and responded “Excuse me?!”

And again…no response.

Then I figured, you know what? He’s probably drunk and maybe…just maybe…he didn’t mean it that way. There are still a lot of people who don’t even know what that lyric is supposed to mean.

Then the next afternoon he responds to my “excuse me” text:

Him: They’re the lyrics to a Beyoncé song.

Me: Yeah, I know they are. Do you know what they mean??

Him: My friends told me an interpretation which I found amusing.

Me: (back to being offended because he knew exactly what he was implying with that line) Probably not something you want to text a woman. EVER.

Him: Let me guess, you didn’t like that.

Me: Not at all.

Him: Lol. ok.

??

LOL, OK? I can’t with this guy. Not only did he say that he doesn’t trust white people (strike 1) then basically tells me he’s going to be in my area but doesn’t want to hang out (strike 2), he now just asked me if I’d been swallowing that weekend (strike 3).

I’M SO DONE.

So of course, I don’t respond to him.

Then….

Him: Do something fun yesterday?

Me: ::Crickets::

Him: Well, I guess you’re upset. Enjoy the rest of the holiday weekend. I’m sure I’ll see you at (insert the bar where we met) next summer! 😉

Me: ::still Crickets::

 

 

 

ain’t nobody got time for that

image courtesy of bing image search

image courtesy of bing image search

So, apparently the guy from my same ol’ same ol’ post thought he could trick me by changing his screen name (same picture though) and sending me a new message.

image courtesy of bing image search

image courtesy of bing image search

sigh…

After his second attempt I told him, for the second time, that I wasn’t interested.

You’ve messaged me a couple of times and I said I wasn’t interested. But thanks.

He disabled his account and that was that.

Then, this morning I received a message from the same dude with a different screen name

Hi …my pants are on my hip , I have a career in Law Enforcement , I like to make people laugh as well … Lets see if we can make a connection … Ok?

No. Not Ok. Not Ok. NOT. OH. KAY.

For some reason, I feel like I’m in the drive-thru scene from Dude…Where’s My Car?…

 

So, I told him no – for the third time. A little more directly.

Listen – using a new screen name isn’t fooling me. This is now the third time I’m telling you I’m not interested. No means no dude, leave me alone.

His response?

Wow you actually counted ..I’m impressed .. 

Psycho.

I responded

Clearly, I’m not impressed.

Then blocked him.

when giving out your number goes wrong…again

It’s not very often that (what I consider) an attractive man asks me for my number on the street.

A kinda-decent-in-the-right-light looking guy – possibly.

A man you have absolutely zero interest or attraction to – most likely.

But a man who I’m actually attracted to? Hardly ever.

(and no, I’m not too picky – I can’t help who I am (and am not) attracted to. So save it)

Which is why, when I was on my way to the train and saw this fine piece of man walking towards me, I didn’t think anything of it and continued checking my email on my phone. When I looked up and noticed that he was staring at me, I thought maybe something was on my face. Then when he slowed down to say hello, I realized that he was showing interest in me.

Jackpot!

So we had a (very) brief conversation on the sidewalk before exchanging numbers.

The next day he sent me a text at 4:30pm.

This is how our conversation went:

Him: Hey

Me: Hey

Him: What u doing

Me: Working. You?

Him: in the city.

Now, this stumped me a little. I wasn’t sure if he was asking me if I worked in the city, or telling me that he was in the city. So I asked for clarification…

Me: You’re in the city?

Him: Yea

Me: Oh, Ok.

15 minutes later…

Him: Good day?

Me: Yeah, so far. It was pretty slow, which was nice. You? Are you working in the city?

Him: Yea I finished

Me: Oh ok.

Him: What time you finish

I’m trying really hard not to judge his grammar considering it’s via text.

He asked a few more questions (what time I got out of work, if I lived with roommates, etc etc) before saying:

I wish I could of seen you tonight somehow

At this point, not only is his grammar irking me, but I also wanted to remind him that he never actually asked to see me. If that was his way of asking, he’s going to have to do better. Since I wouldn’t have been able to meet up even if he had asked, I let it slide.

Me: What’s your schedule typically like?

Him: Changes

Me: Oh Ok.

5 days later…

Him: What’s up

Me: Nothing much just working. You?

Him: What’s you doing after work

Me: Meeting up with a couple of old coworkers

Him: When imma see you

No. None of what was just typed was a typo on my part. And yes, he did actually say When imma see you

Imma? Really? Look, I wouldn’t say that I speak ‘proper’ English all the time. In fact, I’ve definitely said ‘imma’ before – I’m a fast talker and my words tend to run into each other. However, you’re typing. You have the option of fixing that shit before you hit send. Just sayin’…

Me: Whenever you actually try to make plans to see me.

Him: tonight lol after your coworkers

This is now the 2nd time that this guy has tried to ‘make plans’ with me on the same day – within hours from when he wants to meet up. I’m all for spontaneity, but it would be nice if he actually asked ahead of time to take me out.

Me: I won’t be done until late.

Him: tomorrow

Me: I have class tomorrow, but I get out at 8:30. I can either meet up for then for a bit, or I can do next Wednesday after work.

Him: Next Wednesday then.

Me: Ok, sounds good.

Him: send me a pic

UGH! One of my biggest turn offs/ pet peeves is when a guy that I barely know (or in his case, don’t know at all) asks me to text him a picture (this comes second to wearing sunglasses at night – which we’ll get to shortly). It just comes off sleazy to me.

Me: why did you forget what I looked like already?

Him: no, I just wanted one

Me: Oh ok. I’m not really a big fan of sending pics. Sorry.

At this point I really didn’t want to anything to do with this guy, but it had been so long since I’d been on a date, I felt that I owed it to myself to go. Of course, I asked my friends what they thought and got mixed responses. Some saying just go, what can it hurt and others saying don’t waste your time. So I decided to think on it over the weekend.

And of course, he made my decision for me.

Monday night at 11p I get a text from him

I’m driving around bored…what u doing

Wow…how sweet.

Me: eating dinner

Him: can I see you?

Again with the last-minute bullshit. And this time it’s damn near midnight.

Me: um wow…really? No.

Him: why not how cum

Yes, my friends. That is how he spelled ‘how come.’ Gross.

Me: it’s quite clear that all you want to do is have sex, which is fine, but you come off really sleazy so I’m really just turned off now.

Him: are you crazy?

Ah, yes. There it is. The ‘you’re crazy’ line. Why is it that men always assume a woman is either crazy or a lesbian if they aren’t interested in them? Me telling you that it seems like all you want is sex when you constantly contact me last-minute and then reach out at 11pm because ‘you’re bored’ when I don’t even know you does not make me crazy. You haven’t seen crazy, boo boo.

Him: I want to come get you and have a drink

Well, at least he spelled ‘come’ correctly.

Me: It’s 11:30 at night and I work tomorrow, for one. For two, this is now the 3rd time that you’ve reached out right before you’re trying to ‘hang out.’ You have not once reached out to actually speak to me. No, I’m not crazy, I’m just no longer interested.

I didn’t hear from him for the rest of the night (shocker). I thought I wouldn’t hear from him at all, but then 2 days later…

I’m sorry…I really wanna get I know u

Again, not a typo on my part.

One month later…

Hi

2 Weeks after that…

blogger-image-577097617*

*Note: I would typically be against posting identifying information about someone on my blog (names, pictures, screen names, etc), but since this dude decided it was a good idea to text a random woman his picture, my guess is that he wouldn’t mind

These are wrong on SO many levels, but let’s just state the obvious, shall we?

1. Self portrait…in the bathroom mirror…wearing sunglasses…inside…

I don’t think I need to go on, but just for shits and giggles…

2. I have not responded to his texts in over a month. Not one. And the last time that I did respond, it was to tell him that I thought he was sleazy and that I was turned off and no longer interested.

Yes, sir, sending me unsolicited pictures of yourself in the bathroom mirror in a coca-cola shirt and sunglasses is a great idea! I have no idea why I would have gotten a sleazy vibe from you…

3. He sends me, not one, but THREE versions of said picture. Apparently, he couldn’t decide what pose was best – hat forward, hat backwards, or the ‘artistic’ side mirror angle.

Brilliant

A month and a half later I get another “Hi” text from him. Then the next day, I get a “Hey” text.

Now I’m starting to get annoyed. So I respond.

Me: I think you might have me confused with someone else. Please stop texting me.

Him: It’s (my name). I know exactly who you are. tub fronting.

I’m assuming that’s supposed to say STOP fronting. We all know by now that he’s not the sharpest tool in the shed. Either that, or his auto-correct hates him.

Me: Ok. Either way…please stop texting me. Thanks.

Him: smfh why

Me: I don’t even know you! You didn’t make a real attempt at all to get to know me before asking to come to my house and pick me up at almost midnight. I tell you I’m not interested and you keep texting me for months – one time to send me 3 pictures of yourself, taken BY yourself, in a bathroom mirror (wearing sunglasses indoors I might add)…

Him: I apologize for that. I’m trying to make better. I’m not that way.

Him: I don’t to be looked as that , lets restart and have a dinner date and talk , I can be a very gentleman.

Not that I should have to clarify this by now, but those are not typos on my part.

Me: No thank you.

Him:

ok...so maybe I feel a little bad putting his picture online. Since his face isn't covered with glasses and a hat, I blocked it out to protect the not so innocent.

ok…so maybe I feel a little bad putting his picture online. Since his face isn’t covered with glasses and a hat, I blocked it out to protect the not so innocent.

Ugh..this guy.

Me: Seriously leave me alone. I don’t want pictures of you. I don’t want a million ‘hi’ texts. Just stop. You claim you’re a gentleman, so act like one and stop bothering me.

So far that seemed to work. I have not heard from him since, and that was 4 months ago, so I think I’m in the clear.

Phew…

way too much

A couple of weeks ago, I received this message on OkCupid. I honestly haven’t read through the whole thing until just now. It’s pretty long – and a bit disturbing considering this is coming from someone I’ve never even exchanged hello’s with. His screen name makes it even worse. I try really hard not to mention people’s real, full, or screen names on here, but I’ll just say it has the word ‘Penetrating’ in it…which really isn’t a good idea for a screen name for an online dating site. Or just a screen name in general, really.

I’m sure this was copied from some Harlequin Novel, and he copies and pastes it to a slew of different women, but it makes for an interesting read, nonetheless…

I’ve decided that it doesn’t make sense to limit the pool of women under consideration to just those relatively few who happen to live within a few miles of me, when it is overwhelmingly likely that the one whose contours best fit my own is among the relatively many who don’t. Geography can be transcended, if necessary. Not finding the right person can’t be.

But distance means relying on our imaginations a bit more at the outset, so, let’s see if mine appeals to you as much as you already appeal to me:

You stood draped in the dusky mist of a moonlit night, alone, in a realm conjured from shared dreams, seducing the unseen and the unknown. You felt my presence, knew I was there admiring you, but somehow couldn’t quite see me in the shadows, weren’t quite sure where to look. Such is the nature of dream realms, not quite like those in which we live, but sometimes more like reality than reality itself, distilled and carved from the fabric of truth.

You knew that your curves, the shimmer of your dark-nylon-clad legs, the draw of your ample cleavage beneath its own translucent veil of fabric, held my eye captive and made my body yearn, and that the dulcet sounds of your voice, like a siren’s song reaching a shipwrecked sailor, filled me with awe and desire.

I’d like to quickly interject that this is clearly a copy and paste deal, because I’m pretty sure ‘ample’ is not the first word that would come to mind when looking at my cleavage. Trust me.

And there you were now, on a balcony overlooking a tapestry of dark shadows amid cascades of soft white moonlight, wondering where I was, who I was, and why I, who knew only a hint of who you were, desired you so ardently.

Somehow, you knew I was in those shadows, had willed me to be there, had conjured me from your own desires. In your heart you knew that I was not a man with any patience left for the dry rituals of modern courtship, the cautious distance and coolness of a world woven of mutual distrust; you had not conjured such a man, had not made manifest any desire for such a man. You wanted, though you feared, something more, a man who lived and loved boldly and responded only to boldness in others. You knew that such a man could only be intrigued by someone with the courage to seduce, and so, like Christine Daaé*, allowed yourself to long for a phantom who filled your darkest dreams.

Christine Eloise Mary Daaé is a fictional character and the female protagonist of Gaston Leroux‘s 1910 novel The Phantom of the Opera. She is a young singer with whom the main character Erik, the Phantom of the Opera falls in love.

image from wikipedia

image from wikipedia

Yes, I had to look that up on Wikipedia. And to be honest, I had to look up most of the words from this message on dictionary.com.

And so there you found yourself, draped in moonlight and dark translucence, feeling hidden eyes ravaging you, in the grip of a hard resolve that was both present and remote. You knew my passions and preferences, knew how to overpower me with your allure, how to make me long for you absolutely. You moved with the knowledge of how to do so, of what to reveal and what to hide. You strummed the strings of my imagination like a harpist enchanting a hungry heart, every movement and gesture and sly little smile another note in your symphony of subtle seduction.

You trembled inwardly at the madness of it all, of this creation of a shared space spun from fantasies and fetishes, but knew that it was a sweet madness, an opportunity to experience something unique and wonderful that comes along just once in every several lifetimes. The normal and mundane rituals by which we seek to realize the magic of love are too safe to yield that rare gem. It is a seed that germinates most naturally in chance encounters, and grows in the soil of some combination of uncertainty and excitement.

And so you stood there, on display, aroused by your ability to arouse a man you couldn’t help but be intrigued by. You imagined what it would feel like to have me there with you, devouring you with my eyes, enfolding you in my arms, filling and fulfilling you with my passion. You had strummed the harp of my desires that brought me there, and now longed to be strummed in turn, the harp of your own desire played by a maestro whose every stroke and pluck would elicit moans and murmurs and muffled pleas.

At last you turned away, walked back toward the French doors separating the balcony from the bedroom, wondering if I had been nothing but a mirage after all, something you had imagined and wished for but had never been real. The anticipation and tension in your body began to release, a mixture of disappointment and relief washing over you. But it was just in that moment that you felt me behind you, warm and immediate and very, very real. And your whole body quivered with the realization that something truly extraordinary was about to happen….

To be continued?

No, Sir. This will not be continued. In fact, it never should have begun. And for the record – if I ever felt you behind me, ‘warm, immediate, and very very real,’ the only extraordinary thing that would happen is a heel to your balls or an elbow to your jaw. Juuust sayin’

laundromat loco

This past summer I had the unfortunate pleasure of running into Neto at the laundromat by my house. And by running into, I mean he chased me down as I was walking out of the door with a bag of clean laundry.

To be honest, he lost me at hello. He had this white crusty shit in the corners of his mouth that made me want to both gag and offer him a glass of water. I didn’t want to be rude since, clearly, he lived in the neighborhood. I figured I’d exchange a little small talk with him  while making it clear that I wasn’t really interested and be on my way.

Neto wasn’t having that.

First of all, this guy did not shut up. He had questions lined up for days! And when I would answer his questions in a vague / I’m-have-no-interest-in-this-conversation way, he would just keep asking the same question until I answered. This is, roughly, how the conversation went:

Excuse me, miss, how you doin’?

I’m fine, thanks.

Oh ok. I’m Neto.

Ok, nice to meet you.

….what’s your name.

Amber.

Ooh ok…where are you from?

Upstate.

Where upstate?

Near Albany

But where?

*sigh* Uhhh….Catskill.

Oh ok. yeah yeah…pfff…yeah of course, I know Catskill. The Catskills! The Catskill Mountains!

Yeah. Well. It’s the town of Catskill but yeah same thing I g….

Yeah, yeah…me and my family go used to go up there all the time! Bear Mountain and (blahblahblahblah – I was half listening to him at this point)…so I know that area really well.

Oh ok.

So where did you go to school?

Pace University.

Oh ok. Yeah I know Pace. Near the Brooklyn Bridge right?

Well, I went to the Westchester Campus, but yeah the NY one is….

Oooh ok ok ok. Yeah I know Westchester. I have family up there…you know, in Yonkers, New Rochelle, Ossining. All those places.

Riiight…

Where was that campus again?

Briarcli..

Riiiigh riiiight…Briarcliff. I know Briarcliff.

Clearly, this Neto knows it all. In fact, I’m not sure why he was even having this conversation with me…he could’ve just had it with himself. He obviously didn’t want me to speak too much since he kept interrupting me every time I answered his stupid questions.

So, what’s your nationality?

*sigh* uhh..I’m Black and Italian.

Ooh ok. Italiano! Nice! Where in Italy is your family from?

I don’t know.

You don’t know? Are they from Napels? Rome? Sicily? Venice?

I really don’t know.

Ooh ok ok. You know my name is actually an Italian name – but I don’t spell it N-I-T-T-O like the Italians do, I spell mine N-E-T-O

I see.

At this point in the conversation there was the slightest bit of a pause – So I jumped on my chance to bow out.

Ok, well I gotta get going.

Oh, alright.

and then the inevitable happened.

Listen…we should keep in touch. Can I get your number?

Mmm…no I don’t think so.

Why not?

I just don’t think it’s a good idea.

But why?

I actually have a boyfriend.

No you don’t

Um..excuse me?

No you don’t. You don’t have a boyfriend. But that’s alright though. I’m good. I’m gooood. I’m a celebrity Personal Trainer, you know, so I’m doing alright in that department.

Was this guy serious? Ok, so maybe I was lying about the boyfriend thing. But only because I tried to just say no without a lie, and he wouldn’t accept it. So I went to the tried and true back up that every woman uses – I pulled the boyfriend card. Now usually, even if the guy does think you’re lying, he has a bit more self-respect and dignity to actually call you a liar to your face. It just makes him look crazy. AND there is no way to prove that I’m lying…so if I’m not lying you look like a real asshole. As all this is going through my head, all I could do was giggle and say:

Oh ok..wow that’s great.

My clients have been in magazines! I work with Sean John models and all kinds of celebrities so that’s alright I’m good. Trust me.

Great. Good for you. I’m still not interested.

I’m serious. I’ve done some modeling too. You see all this Nike I’m wearing? Head to toe? That’s because they sponsor me.

Little did he know, I don’t even like Sean John, or Puffy, or P-Diddy or whatever the hell he goes by. I think his music sucks, his clothes suck, and everything about his persona sucks. But at this point I’m starting to get annoyed, and embarrassed for him. His desperation and insecurity was becoming unbearable…as was the crust building up in the corners of his mouth.

Listen. Clearly, you’re talking to the wrong woman because I am really not impressed by any of that. So I’m going to go now. Have a good one, k?

Yeah alright. That’s fine. It’s all good….(continues babbling as I walk away)

For a while I completely forgot about Neto. I saw him once or twice over the summer, walking down the block without a shirt on (which is actually a huge turn off for me even if it isn’t coming from a desperate psycho. Unless we’re at the beach or in the bed room – keep you damn shirt on). But I never ran into him at the laundry mat again.

Until today.

It was a holiday, so instead of doing my laundry on Sunday, like I typically do, I decided to wait until today since I had the day off. Clearly everyone else was thinking the same thing because it was PACKED. All was going pretty well…I had managed to split up my clothes into the available washers and was waiting for the final spin cycle to be complete when Neto walked in.

Muther. F**k*r

Thank God for my iPhone, which faithfully kept me busy so I didn’t risk making eye contact with the crazy.

Then, as he was walking past me with a clothing cart, he almost ran my toes over (like I said it was PACKED) and he said ‘excuse me, excuse me, sorry about that miss’

Holy Shit. This guy doesn’t remember me. SWEET!!!!

Little did I know, that wasn’t such a good thing. I was about to experience Groundhogs Day with Neto.

My final spin cycle finished and there were three driers open and waiting for me. I took a look around and Neto was no where in sight. I just might get out of here without a run in! So I put my clothes in and watched them dry, while making some small talk with the woman next to me.

About 10 / 15 minutes later, guess who comes around the corner and starts looking for a drier.

Neto.

Realizing there weren’t any available at that moment, he decided to stand right next to me and wait for one to free up.

Shit.

Shit shit shit.

I should have just walked outside, but I didn’t want to leave my clothes unattended. And then it happened.

Hey, how you doin’?

I’m fine, thanks.

Oh ok. I’m Neto.

Ok, nice to meet you.

….what’s your name.

Amber.

Oh ok…who gave you that name?

*incredibly confused look* uuhh…my…pa…rents…?

No I know I know, I figured that, I wasn’t sure if you knew which one gave it to you. Like, my Dad named my sister, so my Mom named me. I wasn’t sure if your parents had something worked out like that.

I…don’t know.

Ooh ok…where are you from?

Upstate.

Where upstate?

Near Albany

But where?

*sigh* Uhhh….Catskill.

Oh ok. yeah yeah…pfff…yeah of course, I know Catskill. The Catskills! The Catskill Mountains!

Yeah. Well. It’s the town of Catskill but yeah same thing I g….

Yeah, yeah…me and my family go used to go up there all the time! Bear Mountain and (blahblahblahblah – I was half listening to him at this point)…so I know that area really well.

Oh ok.

So what do you do?

I work in TV

Doing what?

I’m an Associate Producer and Editor.

Oh yeah? For what channel?

(I told him the network I work for)

Oh ok. Where is that located?

umm…in the soho area.

oh..yeah I had some clients that worked for that company. They were over near Hudson. They just opened a IHOP over there.

Yeah, that’s around my job.

Oh. well that’s the West Village. That’s not SoHo.

Ok.

Yeah, I was gonna say, I know where (TV network) is. But when you said SoHo you through me off. Yeah, that’s the West Village.

Ok.

Yeah, ’cause I worked at a couple of gyms around there. A bunch of gyms I’ve worked at are near TV networks. I worked up at Reebok near Columbus and (blahblahblahblahblah I tuned him out)…so how long have you been in TV?

For a while.

Oh ok. Where were you before?

ABC.

Ooh. haaha. right up near Columbus right? Near the Reebok gym?

Yep. One of my coworkers had a membership there.

Pfff…one of your coworkers? you mean ALL of your coworkers? Yeah. I know ’cause they gave the ABC employees a discounted rate. You didn’t go?

I had a week pass from a coworker, but …

Right yeah, they give those out all the time, and then they give you a discount after if you want to sign up.

Ok.

So where did you go to school?

Pace University.

Oh ok. Yeah I know Pace. Near the Brooklyn Bridge right?

Well, I went to the Westchester Campus, but yeah the NY one is….

Oooh ok ok ok. Yeah I know Westchester. I have family up there…you know, in Yonkers, New Rochelle, Ossining. All those places.

Riiight…

Where was that campus again?

Briarcli..

Riiiigh riiiight…Briarcliff. I know Briarcliff.

Yep…that’s right. Pretty much the same EXACT conversation. I shit you not. He even cut me off in the same places.

Did you like college?

Sure.

Yeah. I’m a Tar Heels guy myself. I had fun in college. A lot of my friends said they didn’t want to leave because once you left it was into the real world – starting your career and families…

Right.

Bless the old man who needed the machine I was blocking. I could have kissed him when he interrupted our conversation. I tried to make some small talk with the old guy, but he wasn’t really trying to chit-chat, and unlike some people (NETO) I pick up on body language and other non verbal signs.

Neto went on about this and that until my clothes finally finished drying. Actually, they weren’t completely dry, but I had to get the hell out of there. The damp stuff would have to hang over my radiators.

The old man and his clothing cart were blocking Neto in, so I tried to shove my clothes in my bag as fast as I could and head out while he was still barricaded in the corner. As soon as I stood up to walk away, I heard Neto behind me:

So we should keep in touch.

I ignored him. My back was facing him, so it was totally believable that I just didn’t hear him. I practically ran out of there, and he was right on my tail.

Can I help you with your bags?

No, I got it.

Oh, well let me get the door for you.

I got it.

Now we’re outside and I know I’m in trouble.

So, we should keep in touch.

Oh…sorry, I have a boyfriend.

No you don’t. No you don’t. You don’t have a boyfriend.

I had flashbacks to the last conversation and I just couldn’t do it again. Not only could I not endure his ego masturbation, or his desperate attempts to impress a woman he doesn’t even know with (what I’m sure was) a load of bullshit. It was too sad. And I couldn’t let him do it to himself. Or me.

Mainly me.

So I laughed and said:

Ooookay buddy, whatever you say. You have a good one.

I’m a celebrity trainer! It’s all good!

I heard the swish swish swish of his bright purple wind breakers coming up behind me (yeah…so much for a Nike sponsorship. He looked like he borrowed Barney’s sauna suit) and eventually walking past me.

That’s ok. I work with Celebrities! Ha-HA! It’s all good! You have a good day!

Psycho.

I dropped my clothes off and ran to the grocery store. Better to get all my errands done at once so I could relax once I got in the house and settled. As I’m picking out some healthy snacks in the produce isle, guess who walks in? Neto. Coincidentally he comes in less than 2 minutes after me. And coincidentally he walks past me in the produce isle, on his cell phone in the middle of – what he would like me to believe was – a conversation regarding a celebrity client.

All I heard was:

Blahblahblahblah Sean John. Blahblahblah photo shoot. Blahblahblah Sean John.

I wanted to laugh. But I felt kind of bad for him. Clearly this guy is Cray Cray.