The Lurker

Published April 22, 2012 by bossymoksie

Please please please don’t do this. For real, guys. What is going through your minds when you just stand around, staring at a bitch for a long time? Or coming within speaking distance, then not speaking but ‘looking’ like you are until- what? You get the nerve to talk to me? Until I notice your sexy hotness and throw myself all over you? (Notice how hot guys never lurk…or maybe I’m just never bothered by it.) I really don’t know or care, just stop it! You will get nowhere with your creepy awkward ass with that tactic. I once had a dude follow me to a hair salon to look at shampoo for 3 hours. Bitch didn’t even have hair. It’s not attractive. It’s weird. It freaks girls out. We’re thinking, ‘how can I get away from this bitch without alerting him that I’m onto his creepy lurking, therefore activating his psycho gene where he will then try to stab me?’

I had a coworker do that. PS- thank God he was fired! He would just hang around the cash register as he was clocking out or when waiting for a ride (from his girlfriend, no less. Can I also add that this dude was ugly- teeth missing, hair missing, height missing, and lookin like he could be a cousin of Gollum). He would stand there looking at my direction, as though he were gonna say something. Then not say anything. Then just flat out stare (like I was a fuckin ring). What the fuck are you thinkin while you stare? Is a whole wonderful convo and interaction playing in your head where I somehow miraculously end up at your place? I don’t wanna know. Go fantasize some fuck elsewhere and not in front of me.

Once he tried the lingering touch, when he wanted to exchange a $5 for $1’s. His hand would kinda linger for a beat too long. Then have the nerve to say , “Why you tryin to hold my hand?”

I just wiped my hand on my smock with a sneer on my face as I put the cash in my drawer. Because your attempt at flirting was weird, bordering on gross. Like, I need to wash my hands now. Maybe in your strange fantasy underground lair, that would qualify as flirting but not in the real world. Especially not with a hot girl who regularly gets hit on by real men, or boys, and not the deformed hobbit you are.

In the real world, flirting means actually talking to me for a few minutes and establishing a flow, instead of staring at me a few feet away like a retarded statue. After that, when he asked for ones, I said I didn’t have any, not caring that he saw me take in a bunch of ones from the customer who just left. Fuck that, weirdo. Of course he would just stare back at me.

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