zing!

Remember Dan Dan the Creeper Man?
(how could you possibly forget?)
Well... had another incident.  Not as bad as last week though.  You can breathe again, and then prepare yourself to gape in awe/horror/hysterical disbelief at his unobservant-ness and terrible awkwardness.

Get this-- I'm staring at my laptop, intently writing a paper (one of the gazillion things to do in the next 48 hours).  Of course I am alone in Psych Central.  Of course.  I hear a voice,

"Hey Becky"

Without turning I just know its him, and I can tell he's smiling.  Gross.
He's trying to have a conversation with me.  I don't let my eyes stray from my screen and keep on typing, saying one word answers.  I'm busy-- how annoying can you be?  I don't want to talk about my love life, about my weekend, or about how I'm doing because I'm f.i.n.e., and I especially do not, for that matter, want to talk about any of the above mentioned things in relation to you.  I'm trying to focus on my paper.  I'm in a time crunch.  Go away.

        "How are you?
        "How was your weekend?
        "How are the boys?
    S-T-O-P with the incessant questions!

 ***I have a serious flaw-- it is near physically impossible for me to be intentionally mean to someone's face.  It takes a LOT to push me to that point.   Perhaps that's not necessarily a flaw but at a time like this I wish I could spring open my "pandora's box" like Joe Fox just to "zing" people... But instead I'm Kathleen Kelly.  Which darling as her little jumpers and bouquets of newly sharpened pencils and perfect hair-cut are, my mind goes _________ {blank} in response to outlandish comments.  I wish I could evolve into "Mr. Nasty" because in the case of Dan Dan the Creeper Man, I don't think remorse would inevitably follow if I was to zing him. 

Dan Dan the Creeper Man: "You look especially gorgeous today"
Me: "Oh.  I didn't shower"
Dan Dan the Creeper Man: "Must be the pheromones"
Me: Gape in Horror!  Pick.  up.  jaw.  from.  floor.

HERE is where I need to be Joe Fox.
Just zing 'em-- ZING! 
Remember how I'm more like Kathleen Kelly? ... I went ______. 

He broke my personal bubble last week with the sneak-attack side hug.  Now he keeps touching my arm and back even though I make no attempt to establish even a small percentage of eye contact or respond in a reasonable way to his terribly awkward attempts at conversation.
It freaks me out.  And makes me want to coil into the corner. And horrible as this may be to say, I know he wants me.  He thinks I'm some grand creature that would be the perfect little girlfriend because I'm "so awesome", and eventually, one day, {which day will never come, even after hell freezes over and swine fly} I'll realize dating other boys is fruitless when he's before my eyes.   I'll come around or something {his past implies a l-o-o-o-n-g line of rejection he misperceives as, "sure, we'll date and I'll fall in love with you"}. Gag me with a spoon.

Perhaps I should request to be relinquished from my duties to "man" psych central-- avoid all future contact with him?  That sounds like the perfect solution.  Or excuse myself whenever I see him for the next month.  Or wear a fake ring, say the date with my home teacher went marvelously and we're getting married at the end of the semester and having a million babies. OR endure a drastic make-over/disguise-- don an actual cape {rather than just the feminist man-hating one}, "join" Medieval Club, wear Harry Potter glasses, give myself a scar, and carry a wand.  But... would that make me more appealing to him? ...It's hard to say.


One more month one more month one more month.
Perhaps I'll gain the courage to ZiNG him, thereby avoiding the hassle of buying a diamond, cape, and wand.  Not to mention drawing on a lightning scar with eyeliner every morning.