January 13, 2006

If anyone asks, my name is Elizabeth...

... or at least that's what I told a charming member of our local citizenry last night. See, the Estimat and I stopped at Dunkin' Donuts last night to catch a bite to eat before the movie we'd planned on seeing. Finding the tuna sandwich inedible, the Estimat went to the counter to see about switching it for turkey.

And that's when the fun began. I heard someone say "pssst!" I turned around to face the only other person in the dining area, an apparently late-thirtysomething guy three tables down.

Dude: Psst! Psssst!
Me: Hmm?
Dude: [whispering inaudibly]
Me: Sorry, what?
Dude (whispering louder): That your boyfriend?

Hmm, I thought. He's reading the Estimat as a guy. Cool.

Me (proudly): Yes, he is.
Dude (whispering inaudibly again; I had to ask him to repeat himself several times over the course of the conversation): How long you been together?
Me (dreamily): Almost four months now.

Actually, today marked the fifteenth week. But counting weeks is a little too squishy to tell strangers about. Except you folks, I guess.

Dude: So, can I get your number?
Me (pause - then, pointedly): Um. I'm taken.
Dude: He good?

To me? In bed? As a person? Regardless,

Me: Oh, yes.
Dude: That's a he, right?
Me: [look at dude like he's a total lackwit for even asking]
Dude: 'Course he is. I'm Freddy. What's your name?
Me: Elizabeth.

This, by the way, is my standard fake name for really persistent creeps.

Dude: You're real pretty.
Me: Um. Thanks.
Dude: Seriously, though, that a lady?
Me: [look at dude like he's a total lackwit for even asking; though of all the things the Estimat's been called, I'm not sure "ladylike" has ever been one of them]
Dude: Ok, ok, I get it.

What is it that he imagines he gets, I wonder? Does he "get" that we're dykes? ('Cause we're not.) "Get" that we're straight and he just dissed my boyfriend? ('Cause we're not. But he did just diss my boyfriend.) Does he get that I'm not interested? No, surely that couldn't be it ...

Me (to be perfectly clear): We're very happy together.
Dude: I like you.

Blessedly, the Estimat returned right about then. I wrote on a napkin: "For the time being, my name is Elizabeth. Will explain later." But the creepy guy staring at me from a few tables over was pretty hard to miss, and his presence made the problem obvious.

We were extra-affectionate for the rest of the meal, nuzzling noses and holding hands. When we kissed, the Dude called out, "Put a little tongue in it!" I didn't look his way again, but the Estimat informed me later that he watched me the whole meal through, slurpily licking his lips the entire time. We did nothing. We didn't want a fight.

As we walked out, the Estimat fumed. "He's still watching you."

"Fuck him," I muttered. "I've gotten worse."

2 comments:

the spinster said...

Dunkin' Donuts should start selling cans of hazelnut-flavored mace for people like that. Or perhaps very long crullers that could be used as a sturdy cudgel.

*grin*...every tool is a weapon, if you hold it right.

wannatakethisoutside said...

Gross. On so many levels at the same time.