Sometimes I hate being me. I don’t know what it is about me and totally creepy dudes, but they love me. One of my friends said I must produce a pheromone that only truly whacked out guys can smell, because I have them – whacked out guys that is – coming out of the woodworks all around me.
This morning is a perfectly good example of how I am truly a freak magnet… When I got into the elevator there was some random dude in it, which isn’t weird considering I live in a 15 floor high rise with several units on every floor, in a building that size you are bound to have more than a fair share of random dudes. But this one wigged me out with all too cheery “hi.” His “I like your short dress” comment, and him then FOLLOWING me to the parking garage and then staring at me as I get into my car.
I still have the willies. I need some mace.
CW
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