I've Forgotten What It's Like To Be "Hit On."
How weird. I just stepped out moments ago to get some lunch. Once I hit the street, a black Lexus sedan pulled over and the gentleman inside rolled down his window. He asked what street he was currently driving on, as he did not know what it was. (I can sympathize with this, as I have attempted to drive in Boston once before.)
Once I told him and started to walk away, I noticed him checking out the black boots I was wearing, and he said "You like very nice."
I said, "Thanks," and walked away.
A few seconds later he pulled over up ahead of me on the same street. As I walked by, he leaned out his window and said, "I have a few minutes till my meeting. Figured I would try and bother you again."
I didn't know what to say. I wasn't sure if he maybe needed to ask for directions or parking recommendations; or if he was potentially hitting on me. Before I could ask him if he needed some more help he made it clear what his intentions were.
"My name is Mike. Would you like to grab some coffee?"
"Um," I began. "I'm meeting someone for lunch right now. Sorry."
"How about later?" he inquired.
Then I just ran away, trotting down the street.
Boston isn't the kind of city where men hit on you in the streets; bars, yes. Streets. no. At least, I never thought it was. And after living here for three and a half years, it came as a surprise. I didn't know how to react. Which is why I just ran away.
In bars, when guys hit on me, I pretty much just say, "I'm not interested." Even though I am married, I don't like to use that as an excuse for why I don't want to interact with someone who is interested in me. Because it's misleading. Regardless of whether or not I am married, I wouldn't be interested in the guy.
The first thing I did after I ran away was call my husband. He told me not to worry. No one is going to care if I am socially awkward when it comes to the advances of other men.
Once I told him and started to walk away, I noticed him checking out the black boots I was wearing, and he said "You like very nice."
I said, "Thanks," and walked away.
A few seconds later he pulled over up ahead of me on the same street. As I walked by, he leaned out his window and said, "I have a few minutes till my meeting. Figured I would try and bother you again."
I didn't know what to say. I wasn't sure if he maybe needed to ask for directions or parking recommendations; or if he was potentially hitting on me. Before I could ask him if he needed some more help he made it clear what his intentions were.
"My name is Mike. Would you like to grab some coffee?"
"Um," I began. "I'm meeting someone for lunch right now. Sorry."
"How about later?" he inquired.
Then I just ran away, trotting down the street.
Boston isn't the kind of city where men hit on you in the streets; bars, yes. Streets. no. At least, I never thought it was. And after living here for three and a half years, it came as a surprise. I didn't know how to react. Which is why I just ran away.
In bars, when guys hit on me, I pretty much just say, "I'm not interested." Even though I am married, I don't like to use that as an excuse for why I don't want to interact with someone who is interested in me. Because it's misleading. Regardless of whether or not I am married, I wouldn't be interested in the guy.
The first thing I did after I ran away was call my husband. He told me not to worry. No one is going to care if I am socially awkward when it comes to the advances of other men.
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