The FREAKIEST and CREEPIEST thing that’s ever happened to me happened this morning, as I was walking out of Chinese. Forget my ex-boyfriend talking to me about his fantasies–THIS is crazy!
Well, to start it off, there are two guys in my Chinese class. Let’s call them Bob and Marc. Marc is a trumpet player who I may/may not have a crush on (you/meiyou). He’s really nice and reminds me a lot of my best guy friend. He flirts with everyone, so I assumed it was okay for me to flirt with him back. Bob is in my book club, and I assumed he was perfectly normal–well, that was before this morning.
The bell rings and I wait with Marc and some of my other friends so we can walk to class together. As I’m on my way out the door, Bob approaches me and says, “So why do you like Marc?”
“We’re friends,” I say to Bob, looking him in the eye.
“I see the moves you put on him.”
First thought: “WHY THE HECK WERE YOU WATCHING ME WITH HIM?!”
Second thought: “What moves?”
I say the latter.
“Oh, I see you guys talking to each other all the time in Chinese,” he says like it’s not stalkerish.
“Because we’re friends,” I say.
Somehow, the conversation changes to a startling new topic.
“When you guys get married, you’d better invite me,” Bob says. I’m turning red at this point because Marc is only a few paces away.
“If and when we get married,” I say. I think I start giggling a little. Not so good when you’re trying to defend yourself.
“There is no if,” Bob says, stepping back a little, “only a when.”
I don’t know what scares me the most at this point: how Bob has been watching my behavior around guys in my Chinese class for so long, or how seriously he says everything. He devoutly believes that Marc and I will somehow get married. Oh, but it doesn’t stop there.
“How will that possibly happen?” I ask.
“Think about it,” Bob says as if he’s just come up with some revolutionary new philosophy: Bobosophy, where every little flirt is a marriage proposal, and a cough drop is a dowry. “You both have band experience.”
“Yeah,” I say, “me and five hundred other guys.”
“You’ll be in China in four years,” he says, looking wistful. “You’ll take him on a boat somewhere.”
Thought: “Pervert. How long have you thought about my love life?”
“What’s that look?” he asks, bringing me back down to Earth. I’m looking at the sky.
“Just looking up in disbelief,” I say, which is mostly true.
“So can I be the godfather?”
“What?” I ask, shooting him a seriously creeped-out look.
“Oh, I guess it’s too soon.”
Realize, please, how this conversation could have been somewhat hilarious… if he were only joking. But by the way he says everything, he isn’t. He is dead serious. I doubt I’ll ever be able to look at Bob the same way ever again.
Or Marc, for that matter.
