"Fuck. Eye contact. If I'm polite will he be polite too, and then just go away after we've both been polite, or is he going to turn this into a whole thing? If I ignore him, will he go away, or will he come bother me?"
I'm busy. My FWB roster is full. There is only room if I meet someone I actually want to date, and I'm not really looking. I already know some men I'd actually like to date, and if I thought the timing was good with any of them, I'd have already advanced that agenda. It's bad timing. I'm too busy. They're too busy. One lives too far away, and I'll probably never even let him know I'm interested in anything other than occasionally spending some time together. So picking up on interest from a man is flattering, unless he makes it unpleasant, but not something I seek or really want to deal with.
And then there's context. Last night, I was driving my Uber. I took a break after a drop-off in an area I knew was going to be dead. Good opportunity to use the restroom, buy gasoline, stretch, finally respond to texts. Dude gets out of a car. I look at him just to make a note of his position relative to me and to my car. I immediately return my attention to my phone. He wants to know if I have a cigarette. No, I don't. I look at the car. There are two other men. I feel too aware of my body inside my clothes, I take this as a subconscious awareness that I'm being evaluated. I look up, he's going into the store, but he's still watching me. Back to my phone. I recently stopped speaking to a FWB, and his replacement is sending me funny pictures. I giggle. I can't help myself. Then, I remember being watched and check my surroundings. He's in the store. His friends are ignoring me. Three other cars are being fueled. Time to fuel mine and leave. When I get to my car, he's back. We are face to face. He asks me what I'm up to for the evening. I tell him I'm working and my break time is over. He says he likes to take breaks too. Who doesn't? I smile, tight-lipped but polite. I note that he is from the front passenger seat, and I need to close my door to allow him to leave, so I enter my vehicle. I say breaks make efficient work possible, but that hard work is key, and I'm ready to get back to the grind. My words are polite, bit dismissive. My body language says nervous and disinterested. He makes two more attempts to cajole friendliness from me. It is not forthcoming. I close my door, and as I make my way to a pump, I think, "He's handsome, but sloppy. He's the passenger, not the driver, he wants to be given a cigarette, and talked an awful lot about wanting to relax. Relax from what? Around here, no car usually means no job. No job would explain attempts to bum cigarettes from strangers who aren't even smoking. Nothing about this encounter tempts me to curiosity. No chance at all I want to entertain this dude. Why the fuck is that car still here? Dammit. I forgot to pay for the gas. Now I have to walk past that fucking car. Don't jiggle. You're jiggling! Slow down! Fuck these clothes. How did I never notice how much this outfit allows for jiggling? I need to do laundry. Is he watching? Don't look. Assume yes. Do. Not. Look. God damnit. You looked. And you couldn't even learn anything from looking because that window is too dark. Are they trying to see where I'm going? Please let them be gone when I'm done pumping gas. Pretty please. Walking back to the pump, past these people a-fucking-gain. Oh good. A huge woman is emptying the trash near my car. I'm gonna go make her laugh while I pump, then I'll feel good no matter what decisions remain when it's time to leave. Hey! They are pulling away! Ohthankgod.
Then I make the mistake of being the creepy one. My next passenger is a chef, and he smells delicious. Like... Literally delightfully edible. I blurt some awkward thing out about how good he smells, and instantly apologize. He chuckles and we discuss his menu. I'm grateful he didn't take it the wrong way. He smelled like a good lasagne.
These are the thoughts I have when men approach me. I've never liked it. My body developed quite early, years ahead of time and my face. Early experiences mist have felt somewhat traumatic. I remember being aware of my youth and vulnerability. I remember how pushy some grown men can be with girls. The same tension I matured with returns whenever a man appraches me with interest. I don't like being hit on unless I initiate. I don't mind a quick, polite exchange a man might initiate to guage my interest in being flirty. But I want him to go away or change his agenda to match mine immediately when I don't express interest. So, when a man looks at me, I'm usually just hoping he will leave me be.
