Shields up!

I was caught with my weapons shields down the day before Thanksgiving. Fred Meyer is a dangerous place, I tell you. Due to an indulgent nap after school, I found myself with running out of time to make it to the bank before it closed. I promised a JV basketball player that if he came back to the library on Wednesday, I'd have cash to buy one of the raffle tickets he was hawking. Besides, I've been carrying around these two checks in my purse forEVER. A cash machine would have worked just as well--had I not misplaced my debit card last week.

A N Y W A Y . . .

After my double-take at the longlonglong line that stretched from the mini-bank, past the restrooms, all the way to the jewelry counter, I cannily snatched a book from the store's shelves to while away my time in line. That pleasant dream was shot down by the chatty woman in line ahead of me. I stifled my desire to page through The Guinea Pig Diaries and made polite conversation with my line-mate instead. Several minutes later, I turned to satisfy my curiosity and check if I was the last person for the bank's services. I was (prematurely) glad to find another individual behind me--who wants to be the last person in a line? Having acknowledged the somewhat skeezy-looking guy behind me, I felt compelled--why? why?--to include him in our conversation. And then my primary line of defense abandoned me. My grandmotherly line-mate took a phone call, leaving me to the charms of the weirdo behind me.

Skeeze: Want to see mine?
ShouldHaveBuriedMyselfInABookRahni: Uh, what? (I get really eloquent when flustered. Obviously.)
Skeeze slips me a look at the check he's despositing--$2,900-something dollars.
UncomfortableRahni: Oh, well, good job.
Skeeze brags about earning his check for about a week's worth of work--my mind has wiped this part of the conversation out of my memory. Something about lucky times of the year, I think?
Skeeze (nodding): I'm a gamer.
BaffledRahni: A gamer? (Normally, I'd have clued into his obvious no-social-skills demeanor and figured out what he meant, but I thought he was talking about how he earned his check and was casting about as to what he could mean. Hunts wild game? We are in Alaska, after all.)

Skeeze proceeds to wax poetic about the awesomeness of online gaming, heaping praise upon the World of Warcraft, in particular . . . blah . . . blah . . . blah . . . (memory wiped again in self-defense). I just don't have any love--or tons of respect--for people who brag about how people yell at them to join the real world and society by putting down the X-Box. MAYBE YOU SHOULD LISTEN. Unfortunately, since my filter was jammed with gamer-gabbing, I was left defenseless to his next inquiry . . .

Skeeze: So, are you single?
AbsentmindedRahni (checking the line progress): Yep.
Skeeze: Can I get your phone number?

I'm sorry, I demurred, I don't have time to date right now/ more excuses / more excuses / etc. I babbled on--as I do--even though I've always heard you should never give more than one excuse--it weakens your defense and comes across as insulting. I usually have a fake boyfriend profile at the ready, but I was caught totally unprepared. The difficult part was that I was stuck in line with this guy for ten more minutes. A guy I just rejected. AWKWARD. In the strained small talk that followed, I almost felt compelled to invite him to Thanksgiving dinner, having learned that he had no family in town. I resisted. Later on, after making it to the seemingly-safe harbor of the teller's booth, I got a tap on the shoulder. Glancing to my left, I was startled anew by my gentleman stalker. He slid a crafty smile towards me along with a note upon which he had thoughtfully penned his contact information, should I feel an inexplicable urge to delight myself with his company. Brave and gutsy, but also extremely hasty and ill-conceived.

Needless to say, though flattered (yet still cringing a little), I won't be calling.