This may seem impossible:

I met a creepy guy and didn’t feel angry with him.

(The above is some space to help you get over the shock!)

He was a creepy guy. Definitely. He approached me while I was sitting on a bench eating my breakfast (three pains au chocolat from Sainsburys, ’cause you’ll never catch me on a diet, and they only cost £1) and, because I told him what time it was, assumed that meant that he could sit down next to me and talk to me.

Now, there are a few of the Creepy Guy things going on there. And maybe it’s just because my life has been mercifully free of these men that I didn’t overly mind.

But actually, I think it was because of what he didn’t do.
He didn’t mention my looks, my body, anything at all. Not even an insinuation. He didn’t tell me that he found me attractive, or anything like it.
He didn’t ask me personal questions, or anything about whether I was in a relationship.
He spoke to me as though he just liked the company. And perhaps that’s true. Maybe he was just a bit lonely, at a loose end, and wanted conversation.

It’s sad that I can’t trust that. But when a strange, balding man interrupts my breakfast, I’m not going to be particularly nice to him. Even if he does offer me tea.

Yet – and this is the other thing that made me warm to him – when I declined, politely, to the offer of a free tea, he didn’t question it, he didn’t challenge it, he didn’t get angry or upset. He just shrugged, made a noncommital comment – ok, perhaps, or fair enough, I can’t remember – and left.
Almost as though he was taking my advice.

So, even though I still classify him as a Creepy Guy, I feel he redeemed himself.
Well done, Creepy Guy. If every man reacted like that to rejection, perhaps men wouldn’t be so creepy.

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