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11:19 p.m. - November 21, 2002
I hate creeps.
Dangnabit. Dang. I had this long entry. And Diaryland lost it. That just makes me mad. I've already had an ingriating day, and now I have to recreate what I wrote? No fair.

I was just saying that in a loss of good judgment and common sense, I emailed that writer dude and said that we could meet at Borders before I went to class. (Just to remind you, this guy is Persian, is about 60-65 years old, I think, and is a poet/novelist).

Ok, that was just a big mistake that I can't believe I made. I think part of the reason I did that was because I wanted to give him a chance; perhaps he wasn't as big of a creep as I initially perceived. I was wrong. He's every bit a creep as I thought he was. I am so stupid.

Now, these are the reasons why I wanted to run off screaming. I did leave after about 45 minutes, sans screaming.

1) He kept touching my hands. Okay, this is just invading my personal space. First of all, I don't know him. I only let few people touch me or my hands. My friends--male or female, my family, good friends of my family (ie, my parents' best friends). I would not even feel creeped out if Bob, my classmate, touched my hands. At least I know him and trust him enough not to do anything bizarre (any more than usual).

2) He told me that I was beautiful. He said something like, "I thought you were beautiful and that is why I was drawn to you that day" (I thought to myself, "Nope. You came up to my friend and told her she had beautiful eyes. Creep. Eew.")

3) He asked if I had a boyfriend. While this is not ordinarily a problem, he looked at my fingers before he asked this question. I need to buy myself a cladagh ring for such situations. Or get a boyfriend. Anyone know how I can get the guy of my dreams? I doubt you can get him for me. He's dating someone else...Figures.

4) He invited me to his place in Atlanta. Apparently, he is teaching next semester in Georgia, and he said something like, "You are welcome to visit me in Atlanta." I said something like, "No, because I have to go to three conventions so I have been saving my money for those." Then he said he would put me up in his house. Umm. Scary.

5) He told me I had beautiful handwriting. Liar. My handwriting is really bad. Two of my favorite professors from college--both of whom have read enough assignments, exams, papers, lesson plans, etc., of mine are certainly qualified to say so. I believe them. I used to get poor grades in penmanship.

6) He asked me if there were any movies I wanted to see with him. Uh. No. No frickin' way. I go to movies with my buds. Going to a dark place with a creepy man. No. No. I told him the only movie I wanted to see is Harry Potter, and I wanted to take my brother to the movie with me. Whether or not I do is beside the point.

As soon as I left Borders, I wanted to cry. I felt completely freaked out and violated, and completely scared. At least he doesn't have my last name, nor does he know where I live (the Borders I drove to is not the one I patronize, so that's okay).

I was scrubbing my hands with anti-bacterial gel from the Body Shop (Freesia, in case you were wondering), purging his touch from my fingers. I only wish I could erase the rest so easily.

At school, Bob told me I smelled good. But it didn't scare me. Even right now I feel completely...awful. I can't quite explain it. It's like...dirty old man...dirty old man...

Using poetry and writing as a ruse to rustle up a new girlfriend...shame on him.

And shame on me for being too nice.

 

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