Retail Me [ree-teyl] [mee]Irrational Pronoun
1. The irrational case of I, able to tolerate all the crap people provide.
2. A conveyer of upbeat on positive personality to mask contempt.
3. What everyone wishes I was once they’ve gotten to know me.
It is this splinter of my personality that is to blame for the idiots that come into my world and instantly turn into love hungry psychos. Our example is a gentleman aged twenty years that lives on 110th Street. First strike! There’s no way I’m going to travel past 96th Street for anyone, it physically pains me. It’s hard enough going to Midtown to meet friends, and at least cabs want to take you there.
This gentleman has found text messages to be his preferred vehicle of communication. For the first week sending roughly ten messages a day, with only a single response from me every other day. It wasn’t a game on my end, I just truly didn’t care to respond – why feed the flames. The messages in week two became fewer and desperate. Week three found silence that I thought had laid everything to rest. However, week four brought us back to week one. “I want to get to know you.” “I want to spend time with you.”
Are you kidding me? We spent one hour together, one night in a completely platonic manner. What I took from him was that he had little personality and nothing to offer. He on the other hand apparently took from me that I’m the greatest Retail Me out there. I do confess that I’m annoyingly bubbly when I’m cornered with a single person. Except last night at the bar when a guy with poor looks and worse breath leaned in to say, “Hi.” To him I was a dick because he invaded my bubble.
Now I’m not sure what to do with this one. I’ve flat out said there’s no way and he just comes back with, “I want to get to know you.” It’s like he is able to write and send two test messages, but doesn’t have the ability to read. perhaps I should invest in some hooked on phonics and send it his way before the next message invades my phone.