Creepy encounters & aging

Dear Readers,
I'm sorry I've not posted for a bit. While I do have a backlog of historical creepy incidents that I have yet to document, I must admit that it seems I've had fewer creepy encounters of late (or is my benchmark for what's creepy too high?) I'd like to attribute the recent reduction in creeps to the fact that I've got an engagement ring now (do creeps check for them?) or because I've gotten more sassy in repelling potential creeps.  Maybe it's that I haven't been back to America for awhile. Creeps seem to be rife there with the big population, drug problems, limited access to birth control (creeps procreating faster) and lack of universal health care which perhaps assists in keeping creeps in check down under. I suspect, however, that it's got more to do with the wrinkles and such that have come with entering into my 30's. According to this website which shows how aging will make you look  in 20 years, I will look really manly.  Perhaps I'm already looking more manly now than I used to in my most active creep magnet years.When I'm extra manly in my 50's will I then attract more creepy women?

Dare I admit it? I'm going to look pretty creepy....

Beach creeps

I heard a rumour that people actually read my blog and want MORE creepy stories. Lucky for you (but not for me), there are no shortage.

Today let’s talk about a certain trip to the beach.

Okay so it was a nude beach. I used to go to this beach with my family when I was little. I’m not going to lie, I thought it was a little weird. But when I went back with my family to the non-nude or ‘clothed’ section, I felt my heart yearning for a trip to the weird naked side. Really, I was a teenager who liked a tan and kind of wanted to be able to be naked without having it look like I was wearing some kind of white sheen bikini. So I told my fam I was going to the nude side for a little sun-bathing, and off I wandered.

I walked a wee ways, trying to find somewhere a bit secluded, a place where not too many people would see my 16 year old naked bod. I found a little section where the only person in site was a naked man sitting upon a rock. It looked funny seeing a naked man sitting upon a rock but he was fairly far away, so I didn’t worry much and laid upon the beach to soak in some cancerous UV rays.

I was lying face up when I saw the naked rock-sitter making his way over to me. I felt a bit strange having a stranger come talk to me while I was naked so I flipped on my tummy, thinking the butt seemed like less of a big deal to expose. The naked rock-sitter asked me if I knew what time the high and low tides were that day. I didn’t and I was (I believe anyway) obviously uncomfortable as I said “no I don’t” but the rock-sitter didn’t take any notice of my anxiety. He proceeded to have a seat and tell me that he was planning to sleep on the beach that night and asked if I’d like to join him.

I declined. I don’t remember many more details about our conversation, only that he tried to chat with me for a while and that I felt VERY UNCOMFORTABLE being significantly younger than him and very obviously naked, as was he. (Sorry I also didn’t take any notice of his bits and pieces so have nothing to report on that.) I finally decided I had to get out of there. So I said I had to go and join my family for lunch. I sat up to put my bikini back on and I recall him very slowly rubbing sand off on my leg! Ew. After that I was out in a flash and have not returned to a nude beach in the 14 years since. And no, I did not return to sleep with him there that night.

Myspace Creeps

Remember MySpace? I do. I used to have a profile and everything. One time a woman I didn't know sent me a message asking if I'd be willing to have a threesome with her and her husband a few towns away for $10,000. It was a lot of money but I never replied.

That Trip to Montreal

Back when I was a youngin, under 21 years of age, and living in America, I would often flee with my friends up to Montreal. Canada seemed a magical land where the people spoke French, speed limit signs were in metric and, perhaps most importantly, the drinking age was 18.

While there are a number of trips that could be described in this blog there is one that I feel must be discussed today, particularly as I served more as the creep magnet than an actual creep!

Let me start by setting the scene: me and my other female friends were staying at a decent hotel, all sharing a room which we had paid for using one of the girls' mom's credit card (as we did not yet have such things ourselves). So we went out for dinner and then were out drinking and checking out the pubs of Montreal; most likely annoying bartenders with our American accents and inability to speak French. I recall starting to get rather sleepy and me and a few of the girls considered heading back to the hotel. On our way though we found this 'magical volcano' bar. Now to be honest the details of what happened there are a little foggy due not only to overconsumption of booze at the time but also the great lapse of time since this incident occurred - it would have been more than 10 years ago. I do believe that we stayed there until the bar was closing however and that we somehow befriended the bartenders and were perhaps dancing on the bars/tables. No doubt we were having fun. Somehow we ended up inviting at least one bartender back to the hotel room, I think to smoke a little wacky tobaccy (we were after all visiting from Vermont!).

While hanging out with our new friend in the hotel room (which in retrospect sounds really quite sketchy), he suggests that we watch a movie, perhaps some pornography. I must admit that this is not something that one would suggest under most circumstances in American culture. This seemed like a very foreign idea and one that we joked about with the bartender but were not too privy to actually be involved with. We told him thus. However he began flicking through the names of such adult entertainment and  orders one entitled, "Eat me like you mean it". At this stage we get real freaked out and one of our more outspoken friends said, "no dude you have to go now" and we kicked him out and turned off the film ASAP!

The next morning, horrified by the potential explanation my friend will have to give to her rather conservative mother about the movie expense (which we are picturing with the movie title as showing up on the credit card statement), we politely explained to reception that a film was accidently ordered the night before. The kind receptionist, probably staring at the title of the film in shock, states she can see that the movie was only watched for 22 seconds and she offers to delete it from the account. She didn't smirk at all, what professional courtesy, though I do suppose that the French Canadians are also just a bit more open-minded about this sort of thing.

I'm surprised that we returned to Montreal again after that incident, but more about that another time.

Glue Huffers

On Monday I hopped on the train to uni and noticed a strange and unpleasant spell.

I sat down and started trying to focus on some reading. The smell distracted me until I looked up and around and realised that the smell was coming from some glue huffers, one of whom had a bunch of glue in a plastic bag which he was huffing away at.

I considered my options and then approached the young males (probably in their teens):

Me: "Excuse me, could you please stop huffing glue on the train? It's making me feel wheezy and it's really depressing to watch".

Glue Huffers: "sorry" and they put the bag away (amazingly!).

Me: "Look you know that's really really really really really really really bad for you. You might want to consider switching to another drug.”

And that was that. I must admit I was delighted and surprised that they politely heeded my request.  Watching the glue sniffers was creepy in a different way than my usual blog posts, but I thought the incident was still worth mentioning (for my zero followers!)

Rob from St Kilda

Let's talk about what happened a few months ago.

Let me start by setting the scene: I was very very tired. I'd done an all-nighter to get work done the night before (Thursday night) with only 2 hours sleep. A few good friends were travelling through the Melbourne airport and asked me to come have a meal with them at the airport on Friday morning. I did. But I still hadn't finished my work, so I brought my laptop with me and worked on the bus and then ended up back in the city after the meal still without my workdone. I thought, "ah I'll find a cafe and set up shop". But it was prime lunchtime on a Friday in Melbourne and all of my favourite spots were packed out.

Finally I find a place kind of down an alley (very common in Melbourne). It's more of a lounge-bar but they served coffees so I got myself settled there. The place had one beer on tap and it was one of my favourites (Kooinda black IPA) so I thought to myself, "I deserve a beer after all of my hard work, why not!?"

So I order the beer and the bartender/barista guy, who I later learn is named Rob, brings it over to me. He looks me up and down and says, "I love that dress". I was quite proud of this new frock of mine so I said back proudly, "oh thank you" with a smile.

'Rob' keeps looking at the dress and goes on, "the material is so nice, what is that material?"
I'm no fashion diva, so I have no clue but I thought it was just cotton so I say "I think it's just cotton, what do you reckon" and I hold the bottom of the dress way out to him to examine.
However, 'Rob' opts to examine the material upon my thigh instead and rubs my thigh. This I had not expected and I looked down at his hand almost quizzically, very confused and perplexed. Staring at his hand (which in retrospect, I should have smacked away), I see it has dirt all over it as if the man hasn't washed his hands for days.

Rob begins trying to have a bit of a conversation with me but I'm a bit freaked out by the impromptu and unsolicited thigh stroke so I say, "I really need to get this work done" and sink my head into my laptop, distracted, but working.

I work work work for a while. I finish my beer and think, "I should get out of here, this guy's a bit creepy." So I start packing up my stuff and Rob asks me, "you want another beer".
"No thanks" I respond.

 

"Oh come on" he says, "it's on me, we need to finish this keg off anyway".
I'm a real sucker for good free beer though and find this new offer too tempting to turn down so I agree to have one more and continue my work. Rob brings me my beer and says "wow I can't believe how hard you're working". "Yep" I say and get back to it.
Maybe a half hour later, Rob asks, "want to come do a shot with me?".
"No thanks" I respond.
But Rob somehow convinces me (through, 'it's on me' and 'you're going to make me do a shot alone' type arguments) that it's a really good idea. But...then he says, "oh there are cameras here we'll have to go in the kitchen" which was dark but attached by open plan. I go in and take the shot and go to leave and Rob says "Come here, come here" and tries to keep me in the kitchen and bring me further into the darker areas of the kitchen. At this stage I'm starting to freak out. I ask for some tea and say "I must get back to work" and do so.
I'll spare you the full details of how the saga continued but basically I ask 'Rob' to put toilet paper in the loo and he pretends to be confused, asking me to go and show him where and keeps trying to trick me into going into dark & seperate rooms with him (I told him he could figure out on his own where the toilet paper belongs). When not talking I work away and he just leers at me. I text my boyfriend to tell him where I am and the situation in case I go missing!

 Eventually I finish my work, go to pay my bill and 'Rob' has gone without saying goodbye or any last minute sleazy phone number requests (surprisingly). The new bartender that has arrived is grumpy that 'Rob' has ran a tab for me without writing a thing down and asks if "he always does that for you". I respond "No I've never met the guy before" and leave the place. Work done but creeped out.

Gosh the British are Polite

One day a few years ago I was walking to work at approximately 8:30am. Along the way a decent looking man of about 30 years of age  with nice salt & pepper coloured hair said to me in a British accent, "Hi there, I am so sorry to trouble you but may I ask you a question?"
"Sure" I responded.
He asked, "do you know of anywhere I might be able to get a pint of beer right now?"
I thought, "that's a bit of a weird question for this time of day" but then considered for a moment, and replied "I think this place called Vespa might be open" and proceeded to give the gentleman directions to it.
He thanked me and then enquired, "would you fancy joining me for a beer".
At this stage, I thought, "well this is getting a bit weird", so I started backing away and said, "No, sorry I have to get to work".
But, he pressed on, "are you sure? it will be fun?".
Well I do like beer but really I didn't know this fellow, it was an inappropriate time of day to go drink beer and I had to get to work. So I said, "yeah I'm sure sorry" and started walking away.
Then he called after me in his most polite British accent, "we could have some casual sex?"
I must admit the British accent did slow down my cognition of the creepiness upon me, but I managed to head off to work, albeit in a bit of a confused state.