Thursday, December 02, 2004

Crash Wrangling

Some notes to those of you stupid horny drunk desperate lonely blind psychotic discerning enough to try to hit on me at a social event:

1) Don't assume that I will understand that "Could you grab a drink for me" means anything other than you are thirsty and I'm already in line. I'm not very good with subtext. If you think I am datable/fuckable/too drunk to put up much of a fight, then just say so. But understand that if you say so, my instinct is to flee.

2) Strangers who smile and act friendly confuse me and make me nervous. My instinct is to flee.

3) I have some . . . um, self-esteem issues. Don't call me cute, hot, sexy or anything like that. When I look in a mirror, all I see is Jabba the Hutt's ugly older brother. Do I really look like that? No. But that's what body dysmorphia is all about. This is also the reason I hate looking in mirrors and being photographed. If you say I'm cute or whatever, my instinct is to flee.

So what have we learned?

Crash is kinda fucked up and he spends a lot of time fleeing.

The reason I bring this up is that someone hit on me last night at Blades Against AIDS. Of course, I didn't really grok* that he was doing this until half an hour later when he was leaving and asked for my phone number. Then I got all freaked out.

This is why I don't have a boyfriend.

*Actually, the fact that I use the word "grok" and expect people to catch the reference is why I don't have a boyfriend. Maybe I should go to more Sci-Fi conventions.


myke said...

did you give him your phone number? Please don't tell me fled???? Byrne????

Jess said...

Yes, did you give him your number? Or do we have to hunt this guy down, hog tie him and drag him to your place? ;)

jwer said...

When in doubt, go to fewer Sci Fi conventions... although perhaps that'd be good therapy for your dysmorphia, since there's NO WAY you wouldn't be better looking than anyone there. I mean, since I stopped going to them, that is. Ahem.

Crash said...

I ran like Flo Jo.

palochi said...

At least you'd find a lot of virgins at a Star Trek convention.

Feh. Stop running and see what happens sometimes, will ya? It was a phone number, not a marriage proposal. What the fuck do you have to lose, Mr. Absolutely datable/fuckable/too drunk to put up much of a fight?

Know this: Sometimes, the people doing the asking are just as nervous (and sometimes as fucked up) as you.

Anonymous said...

Yeah, I learned what dysmorphophobia was when I was 14. So what. I gotta say that there can be no one who writes as cool as you do but who looks like Jabba the Hutt's older brother. You probably look more like Boba Fett's geeky little cousin that they used to beat up and lock in the closet. Who wouldn't find that dateable?


Sorry bout the Anonymous post I don't blog with Blogger. I like to blog myself.

MzOuiser said...

Heinlein was never my favorite...