So I have some weights that you need to fill up with water. But I wanted to fill them up with sand, so I went to a store I knew sold sand (after finding a few that didn't). It was similar to Lowe's or Home Depot, except French.
It was a 45 minute walk, which I thought on the way would be a pain for getting back. Even worse, while they did have sand, they had no bags smaller than 40kg. That's 88lbs for you non-metrics
When I went to pay for it (they had a booth you were supposed to drive by), the woman offered a caddie to take it to my car, to which obviously I said I had none. At this point, I'd like to stress that the bag was already feeling heavy. The woman gasped in shock (I'm not actually exaggerating here) and exclaimed "you mean you're taking the BUS?!" to which I replied "Oh, there is a bus! That's much better than walking!"
She gave me a weird look.
Anyways, I was relieved and decided to take the bus home.
Now, a summary of half an hour of dumbness: Avi goes to bus stop A. Avi thinks it's going in the wrong direction, and walks around looking for another stop on the other side of the compound. Avi gets tired of carrying the bag. Avi asks for directions and is sent back to bus stop A.
Once there, Avi noticed that dragging the bag has made a few tiny holes in it. Avi also notices bus stop B a bit accross the street, and decides that's the one going in the right direction. Avi picks up the bag again and goes there.
Avi reads what's written on bus stop B, and noticed the other one was the right one. Avi gets frustrated. She rips the top of the bag open and scoops some sand out, because she doesn't need that much anyways. She puts the sand on top of dirt and worries she's littering so she stops after a few scoops. Still the bag is lighter now. It also has a gaping hole in it. Avi is a moron.
Avi goes to bus stop A for the third time, and realises it states in obvious terms that it's going in the right direction. Right there on the bus stop. If only she had looked before.
Avi is sore now. Awwww.
For information, the bag now weighs 72lbs. I weighed it once home.
Once in the street again, I catch my breath for a bit. I still have some distance to walk, something like 5 minutes if you're walking at a normal rate and not carrying a bag of sand.
Suddenly, Some Guy.
And then a guy shows up.
Guy: Hey, I'm new here, what is there around that could interest me?
Me, hearing "I'm a pastry maker" (this exchange takes place in French) and a bit confused: Er, no clue, sorry."
Guy: A sex shop, a movie theatre?
Me, confused what it has to do with pastries, and suspecting I misheard his previous sentence: er... No sex shop in town but there is a theatre in the main square. Otherwise, not much to do I guess...
Guy: You don't go out much, do you?
Me, who never goes out, ever: No, not really.
Guy: Does the Mister not want you to?
Me: no, he... (suddenly realising he's hitting on me, and wanting to make sure he knows I have a boyfriend) he's in the US.
Guy: Oh, okay. (looking at the sand bag) what do you have here?
Me, stating the obvious: It's a sand bag.
Guy: Where are you trying to get it to?
Me: Home.
Guy: Let me help you.
Me, moving aside so he can pick it up: It's heavy.
Guy picks up the bag, we start walking.
Guy: So, your guy isn't home, right?
Me: No, he's in the US. I'm trying to get a visa so I can go there too.
At this point I'm very confused why he's helping me after I made it clear - in my mind - that I'm not interested in him.
Guy: So, you're single in France?
Me: What? No, I'm still with him, he's just not here right now.
Guy: Right. He's not here.
Me: Right... You can leave the bag here. I can carry it the rest of the way. It's heavy. Thanks so much.
Guy: No, no, I can carry it the whole way. Is it much further?
Me: No, just down the corner. I just don't want you to... I mean, I'm not going to offer anything in return. You don't have to help me.
Guy: No worries. So, no sex shop, eh?
Me: No...
Guy: But you like them?
Me: What?
Guy: Sex shops, you like them?
Me: well... yeah, sure, but...
Guy: What about leather? You into leather?
Me, really confused about this guy being so weird: I...
Guy: You don't like leather?
Me: You're making me uncomfortable.
Guy: Oh.
He stops talking but seems to wonder why the hell that would make me uncomfortable. I'm starting to worry he's going to expect to come upstairs. I have to admit I wasn't worried he'd try anything as much as I was worried he'd see how messy my place is.
Me: We're here.
Guy stops and puts down the sandbag. He's sweating. I'm feeling bad that he carried it for nothing.
Me: I feel bad that you carried it for nothing.
Guy: No worries. So, wanna grab a drink sometime?
Me, terrible at just saying no to someone who's just saved me a lot of pain and trouble: I'll talk about it with my boyfriend.
Guy: Why?
Me: Because he's my boyfriend?
Guy: He doesn't have to know.
Me: I'm not going to lie to him. I'm not going to cheat on him.
Guy: Okay. What about no sex? Just tenderness?
Me, confused: What do you mean?
Guy: kisses, snuggles... no sex, just affection.
Me: I'll see what he thinks.
Guy: What do YOU think?
Me: I... I don't want to get attached to someone in France when I know I'm leaving for the US.
Guy: But you're going to feel lonely in the meantime.
Me: I'm fine.
For some reason, I can't quite remember, he gives me his number anyways.
Guy: You won't give the number to your boyfriend, right?
Me: No, of course not.
Guy: I don't want him to call me.
Me: He's not going to want to call some guy in France. But I won't give it to him.
Guy: You promise?
Me: Yeah, I promise.
Guy: Okay, then bye!
I go to hug him because I forgot French people don't do that. He air-kisses me. I mean the way French people greet one another, by brushing your right cheek on the other person's right cheek and kissing the air, then brushing your left cheek on their left cheek and kissing the air. But he does the process twice in a row for a total of four air kisses.
Guy: With me, it's four kisses.
Me: Ah. I'm used to two.
Guy: Oh, okay, let's do two then.
He air-kisses me twice. His hand kinda brushes against my waist but not really, less than in a hug. I don't think anything of it at the time. Now I wonder if it was innapropriate by French standards, where you're not supposed to make contact at all when you greet each other (sometimes even the cheeks don't touch).
Then he leaves, asking me to keep him informed.
So I was at the door, feeling pretty shitty because I felt like I led the guy on. I thought I was clear right away that I wasn't interested, I don't know if he was pushy or if I was misleading. I ended up pretty confused about the whole thing. The guy was nice, polite, there was barely any contact, he gave me his number rather than get mine. He did ask some inappropriate questions but stopped when I said I was uncomfortable.
But at the same time it's pretty clear that he expected me to cheat on my boyfriend. I mean, I know I'm polyamorous, but he didn't know that.
Anyways. I dragged the bag inside, and then had to go up the stairs. I ended up going slowly, lifting the bag for every stair. Now it's home next to me and I'll fill the weights later. I think I need to rest a bit first.
All in all, I'm glad the guy helped me, but I still feel bad that he got nothing in return. If he hadn't hit on me, I would have been more likely to contact him again and hang out as friends (I do feel lonely) but as it is, if we saw each other again I'd be uncomfortable and expecting him to make a move, so there is no way I can do that. I'm debating if I should call him to tell him, so that he doesn't wait for a call that never comes, which sounds like the right thing to do, but I don't want him to know my number. Maybe I'll call from a phone booth or something.
So yeah, the sand is here. I'll fill the weights later. Right now I think I'll get some rest.
No comments:
Post a Comment