When we both found ourselves at the bar at the Toronto Eaton Centre Red Lobster it must has seemed like kismet to you. As we sat to the side, hoping for service, you glanced at me in what was, in retrospect, an inappropriate number of times. I though you were commiserating on our wait for adult beverages but apparently you were checking me out. I would not have half smiled back if I knew what was going on.
But, you see, I'm trying to live this life of positivity and joy and connection so, "yeah", (half smile) "gosh it would be nice to get some service."
Now, having more initiative than you, or perhaps, as became clear, the one who had not yet had a drink yet on this Friday night, I move to a main part of the bar and order a glass of wine and a dinner menu.
Well, goodness, suddenly, there you were beside me asking if you could join me and ordering a double scotch on the rocks. Scotch on the rocks - people actually drink Scotch on the rocks. I was starting to feel like I was somehow morphed into "Anchorman". I'm nice, I can't really keep you from the seat beside me, and honestly, I though you might be good for a laugh so, "yeah" I say, "have a seat". We chat for a bit, I ask if you are in town for work as most at the bar seem to be or are you meeting people? You tell me that I keep myself nice. CREEP ALERT AMBER
You stare. At me. And not in the good romance novel, Fabio ripped shirt off, undressing me with your eyes way. No, I feel dirty and the hot water heater at home is broken so I can't have a shower.
I should have shut you down right there but, what I do is conscientiously switch to using my left hand to drink thereby directing you, on my left, to my wedding band and the diamonds in it that should be fairly obvious. I figure you will notice and make a hasty but polite retreat.
Am I single, you ask. "No", I say, tapping the ring. "Very much not". "Sorry?"
"Are you up for something" you say. CREEP LEVEL AT RED
"No" I say.
"Am I bothering you" you say.
"No" (blatant lie) I say but at this point I'm aware that you are slurring your words, that you have pimples on your forehead (how old are you??) and I'm thinking I really don't want to have the restaurant to worry about a scene in the bar. It's Red Lobster for god's sake. It's just all so weird.
I tell you that I've come for dinner and to catch up my reading and so get my Kindle out. You continue to stare. I've turned away from you but you are sitting, staring. There is no other word to sum you up but "staring".
I go to the hostess area and tell the staff that I have a super creep in the bar and, I know that they have a wait going, but please, could they find me a table away from the bar. The staff is incredible, they find a booth immediately, I go back to get my things.
"My table has come up", I tell you.
"Where are you going", you say.
"None of your business" I reply.
Later, after dinner, the staff tells me you have gone so I head out into the mall. I don't see you so I think it's fine to walk down Dundas St. It's a major street, lots of people, lots of open stores, and bars and restaurants. It's my city and I feel safe in it and I know everyone around me will have my back if you appear. I also know that I have an umbrella in one hand and new Weight Watcher's body fat scale from Sears' in the other. And I'm an Ironman and if you try to fuck with me I'll introduce you to both of them.
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