Tuesday, November 15, 2005

I see London, I see France, the guy from Uganda wants in my pants.

As someone wiser and more clever than I once said, "If I didn't have bad luck, I'd have no luck at all." Although I think in my case we should replace "luck" with "game" because kudos to me, I have managed to attract yet another skeezy guy. I think if I were a superhero this would be my power. Or better yet, a Care Bear.

When I was in high school this kid Daniel would, without fail, ask me to every dance. Daniel was a kid you might call a "nerd". Or perhaps a "geek". Maybe "geeky-nerd." Whatever. But he was a genuinely nice fellow, and in retrospect I probably should have gone out with him as he would no doubt have shown me a nice time. These are the things maturity teaches you. Anyway, I always turned Daniel down holding out hope that the dipshit I actually wanted to ask me to the dance (I don't even know who this would be now) would call. But every year when Daniel would call my mom would answer and make me talk to him. I remember she once said after Daniel made one of his calls, "Poor Texas, it's never the one you want, is it?". Little did I know what a prophetic statement that would be.

For a couple of weeks now D has been telling me about this guy in her immigration class -- how he has "lunged" over her to touch her book or collect a paper and in doing so "accidentally" rubbed up against her boob. He has done this with another girl, and she decided that he was skeezy. D and I, being open minded, realize that this guy is from a different culture and think that he might have different definitions of personal space. Plus my assessment was colored by the fact that I thought I sort of knew the guy she was describing.

Cut to last Thursday night: I am studying in the library, as always. I'm in the library a lot, because gee, I'm a goddamn law student. I pretty much just eat breath and shit the law. I generally study with my headphones on because I like for my life to have a soundtrack and I have a regular carrol on the 5th floor I go to, and my friends know that I sit there so they'll drop by and say "hi" or leave me notes, or whatever. Anyway, the carrols here have lockers at the top and people can get keys to them. I have one on the 6th floor, but I never sit there. So anyway, turns out one of our finest LLMs (foreign master student) has the locker in the carrol next to me. He comes and goes and as I was raised to be polite I'll nod in acknowledgement that there is another human being in the immediate vicinity. Little did I know, that that is a declaration of love. At least in Uganda.

So one evening the guy next to me is on his way out and taps me on the shoulder. He says "Hello, my name is Rodger"
"I'm Texas" I say "nice to meet you."

I am thinking this is the end of the conversation, but no. Rodger then says,
"I notice you are here a lot; maybe it is coincidence, but I am thinking it has something to do with me."

Now mind you we are in the library, Rodger is whispering and has a thick accent so my brain needs about 5 extra seconds to decode and process what he's saying. Rodger continues, "I would like to talk to you some time. I think that we could...."

Rodger then gives me the once over. Think the Wolf looking over little red riding hood. Think a fat man with a steak. Think a crack ho with crack. Whatever you picture, picture a look of greasy salaciousness that made me want to rush home and take a shower. I was stunned and I am pretty sure I didn't say anything, and then fortunately he left.

The next day I tell D before class what happened and she drags me over to this board that has all the LLMs pictured on it. She has me point out Rodger and she says "That's the guy from my immigration class!" So see, he was not the nice guy that I sort of thought I knew. We have to go to class but D says "You have to tell me this whole story again after class now that I know who you're talking about."

After class, we talk about skeezy guy some more and then I wander off in the direction of the library. It's a dead time because people are either in class or studying and sweet Jebus if I don't run into Rodger. He sees me and gets all excited and rushes up to me saying "Can we talk now?"

I am happy to say that it may have taken me all of Italy to prepare for this moment, but it has paid off. I cut right to the chase and say "I'm sorry but I can tell you right now that I'm not interested."
"Oh you're going to do me like that" he says and takes my hand -- which I of course jerk back.
"Yes, I'm afraid so" I say.
"I've been watching you you know and I've been wanting to talk to you, but you make me nervous."
In my head I'm thinking "Yes, you've been pining for me so much you've been reduced to copping a cheap feel of my roommate et al. in class. Yes Rodger, man of my dreams, take me!" Out loud I say, "I'm sorry, but I'm just not interested," and then I walk back to the library.
Fortunately, Robert has not returned to the library when I've been here. However, I have changed carrols since he saw such significance in my choice of seat. Now mind you, I hate to let him "win" like that, but I finally decided that if I sat in the same seat he might take it as a sign of encouragement. But still...

The 5th floor is MINE! MINE I TELL YOU!

Recent update: word on the street is that Rodger is in fact married. That makes him double the catch I think.

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