My phone thinks that I think I’m Spider-Man…
While standing at the bar of one of the many bars I frequent, emanating from somewhere behind me, I overhear a female voice taking part in one half of a phone conversation.
“Ugh. I’m at some bar.”
“Yeah, I don’t know. I don’t want to be here, its all, like, dark. And full of weirdos.”
“Ugh. No. I have no idea when we’re leaving.”
“Oh Em Gee, it’s the worst, like, I don’t even know why they wanted to come here.”
“I know! We never go to cool places that I wanna go to.”
Being one of said weirdos in the, like, dark bar, I look over my shoulder to try and steal a glimpse of the dissatisfied orator of this asymmetrical diatribe.
I think I was just propositioned by a 60 year old man.
A completely unsolicited “Why don’t you come with me and shower in my hotel room?” isn’t your usual bar room banter is it?
Well, sir, since you asked, my reasons are many and varied. Here they are in list form:
- Not really my scene.
- I still have money.
- That bar chick though…
- I don’t find you attractive.
- You look like you might kill me then burn me in your hotel room bathtub.
Quite a thought process to arrive at a simple “No thanks man, I’ll pass. Happy hunting.”
Sometimes I feel like I’m the one who could make Taylor Swift happy. Then I realise I probably couldn’t and it bums me out.
Whenever I attend a costume party I always find myself referring to the people I meet as the characters they’re dressed up as.
“No, your name isn’t Daniel. It’s Batman. Don’t share your secret identity man! That’s Batman 101. Isn’t that right Dr. Evil?“
This afternoon I found myself on a train. With other people. Which sucks. As previously established, I’m not very good at trains.
Sitting directly behind me was a mother, who I’m sure was a teenager in the 90’s, and her three children. The eldest, a girl that couldn’t have been more than ten or eleven, kept singing a single line from Aqua’s Cartoon Heroes. Over and over again. Very loudly.
It’s really difficult to self edit. I can proof read what I’ve written a dozen times and still miss glaring spelling errors or grammatical mistakes, because I read what I’ve intended to write. Not what I’ve actually written.
When I interact with a girl wearing a choker I immediately perceive her differently than I would if she were sans choker.
I need to work on that.