Below are the 24 most recent journal entries.
I am living the life, man!
this is the best community ever. the only people who seriously hit on me are old people. i've been fighting off dirty old men since i was 16. it seems to happen to everybody, too. all of my friends complain about it.
it usually happens at work, because places like stores and restaurants are the only places where these old guys get young women smiling and being friendly with them...because they get paid to. it's like old people mistake general customer service for flirting. they at least take the opportunity to pretend young women might be interested in them. i used to work at the jewelry counter at wal-mart...yeah. these old hispanic guys with a lot of gold jewelry on would always ask me to marry them.
whenever an old guy asks my name, i know it's coming. my favorite thing for them to ask when i know it's coming is "are you married?" because then i just say "yes" and that's the end of it--"phew." .sometimes i wonder if i'm inadvertently doing something that might make them think it's not entirely absurd for them to venture to ask me out.
now i work front desk at a motel, third shift. i get a lot of truckers. very precarious on the hobop front. old truckerness aside, why would anyone be so bold as to ask someone out who they've just met, and who's only smiling at them because it's their job?
join this community, if you fear the fish or would like to help get people over the tragic fear of fish.
do it! or don't do it then
old men and breasts don't mix too well when they spend 10 mins staring at them without flinching....
as i sit here licking bbq sauce from the bottle (don't ask), it struck me i haven't related my experiences with old drunken men leaving the bar across from the bus stop i wait at after class. they come shuffling out, that sort of distressed-hat-slovenly-friendly-drunk stereotype one always sees in the moving pictures. they see standing me there with some groceries, and start propositioning me, or making "the moves" on me with old timey "smooth lines", or keep talking to me when i look too tired and disgruntled to really have a pleasant chat.
a special sidenote to this story is that people have been mistaking me for a man since i cut my hair. this has been bewildering me more and more, since i've lost some weight recently, and my boobs are more prominent then my belly is. some even insist on referring to me as male even when they've looked straight in my face and heard my voice.
the fact that these old drunk men can immediately tell i'm female, and have the presence of mind to want to have sex with me, either says something about perceptions under social conscious sober mind and an uninhibited drunken man, or that my body type is that of a prostitute frequented by drunken old men. both make me sad.
Something for the Weekend for Somebody
I work at a small hole-in-the-wall retail store that, as of late, houses the sort of people I normally wouldn't fraternize with. However, I still haven't even remotely tried to attempt to expand my social circle beyond it, leading me into a continuously looping cycle of HOBOPA danger.
One of the women I work with is married, but probably no more than ten or so years my senior; of course, age is moot with the whole wedding thing going on. Their relationship is one of those open European ones or I'm just somehow privy to a lot of information I oughtn't be. Whatever the case, I am apparently yet another conquest, which is certainly not the sort of role I play that often.
She'll invite me to do all sorts of things, always appending that I can get drunk if I want to. Presumably, this is because I become very slutty when I've been drinking; I haven't ever before, but maybe this time when I'm around her, it'll happen and I'll be overcome by lusts too strenuous for my feeble mind to contain.
If she just wanted to hang out, I might actually think it's on the straight and narrow, but she engages in too many little come-ons, like resting her posterior on my hand when there's plenty of other places she could stick her rear. Offhand, I can't think of a proper buttocks-on-digits situation, but maybe the occasion would arise in a very small elevator or if everyone was in a lifeboat after a Biblical-class flood.
Anyway, it's creeping me out a tad. Nobody ever seems to believe me when I say I have no interest in them, which means they either think I'm a dirty, stinking liar or such a total loser that I can't actually be turning down anybody. Unfortunately no matter which option I fall under, I don't exactly got the life.
Mood: I love you HOBOPA
hey! i'm new, and i after reading the entries posted here, wasn't actually going to join because i didn't think i have a good story. i guess i just repressed it, because, oh, i do .
my sophomore year of high school started 2 weeks early because i was participating in soccer preseason. the idea behind preseason is just to get us in shape after a relaxing summer. unfortunately, getting in shape involves running.
my high school was about a half mile away from the "bus route" - a private road (no public trafic whatsoever) owned by septa in a residential area. the bus route is very convenient to run on because septa uses it as a cut through to the main line very infrequently.
that day in august was very, very hot, and we had already run a few miles, so most of the girls (including myself) were running in sports bras. mistake. as 15-20 of us were running back towards the school with the coach on the bus route, an older man (40-50) starts coming at us on a bike. as he passes us, he looks us over, rings the bell on his bike, and says "keep 'em bouncing!"
oh. my. gosh.
one time i was in mexico with my family and a man in a santa hat led me around by the arm and told me i was verrry pretty. he was old. i didn't like him. and my parents laughed...i failed to see the humor.
I have a 70-year-old admirer in my apartment building. He thinks he's 25. He wears gold chains and unbuttons his shirts to reveal graying chest hair. EWWWW.
i'm new, and scarred from the elderly.
this nonenglish speaking old chinese man in vegas attempted to kiss me and i said no thanks but since he spoke no english he didn;t understand so now i'm afraid of old chinese people, but if you are chinese and i know you and you speak english then you're alright.
it happened again the other night...the old guy at the ballpark...
just makes my skin crawl...
i get hit on by the elderly all the time. while it is a bit of a pick me up (we can learn a lot from the elderly, especially about taste in women), it's also very dissapointing to know that the only people i can attract are the denture set.
Some older black guy said "Hello" to me today. I smiled as I died a little inside.
Hi, I'm new *waves*
This happened to me when I was 15 while I was waiting for the bus. I was standing around with about five other people when one guy starts talking to me:
Guy: Hi ::small talk::
Guy: I just moved here from India, so I don't really know anybody.
Guy: I'm an engineer.
(like I'm supposed to be impressed by that)
Guy: So do you want to go to SFO with me tomorrow (SFO=the San Francisco AIRPORT)
Me: What? Ummm...no *walks away*
I waited for the next bus to get away from him. What the hell is wrong with ppl, I'd been talking to him for 30 seconds, and he asks me to go to the airport with him?!?!
I found this fantabular community through delzinko! Isn't that swell? Almost as swell as the vacumn cleaner hose I found in my couch! I was wondering where that had gone!
I have no problems being hit on by older men. Older men are cool. They usually can drive, don't blow nostril rockets out of their nose in public, and they're usually more comfortable and confident around me, enough to realize that impressing (okay, embarrassing) me with sweeping grand gestures is absolutely not necessary. Older men are usually between the ages 21-39.
I also don't mind receiving the flirtations of elderly, senior citizen types, mostly because that there's little or no threat I may hurt their feelings by turning them down, because they KNOW they're old. Usually I remind them of their late wife, which I think is kind of neat.
However, I find it creepy when not quite elderly men (to a twenty year old girl, that would be 40-65) take it upon themselves to dip in my kool-aid.
Two weeks ago I was riding the local bus home when I sat down across from a 50 year old hippy coming back from a sale at Hechts or JCPenneys. I had been freezing my face off and when I sat across from this man and said, "Thank God for heating vents," he grinned at me and barked, "Thank God for blue-eyed redheads! Man, I sure do love redheads!"
I sat there, looking out the window, nodding from time to time as he spouted out more of the blarney, when the woman next to me grinned, "Hey! You ain't a real redhead, are you?" and pointed at my tawny roots and eyebrows.
The old man choked. "Y-yes she is! Hell if she ain't!"
The woman next to me nodded, "You can tell. Her eyebrows aren't even red. Redheads have red eyebrows!"
"Well now, that's not entirely true," I stated. " My sixteen year old cousin Virginia has bright, brick red hair and her eyebrows are dark brown!"
The 50 year old hippy licked his lips and commented, "Mmmmmmmmmmmm, I bet I'd like her!"
Sixteen year old jailbait.
i'm new and shiny, look at me look at me!!
i work at a popular theme park in orlando, florida as a turnstile attendant, aka ticket taker. needless to say, i interact with a lot of people on a daily basis.
i have found, since working there, that i hold a certain appeal to older mexican men and, sometimes, their wives/girlfriends/etc as well. and not just the guests. oh no, the security working at the front gate is in on it too.
--hey, why are you still wearing that raincoat? it stopped raining...
-i'm cold. it's keeping me warm. kind of.
--if i was younger and single i bet i could think of several creative ways to warm you up good, sweetie
-excuse me while i hork up my intestines. you are 80, minimum.
work is fun. not to mention i get to wear purple polyester pants.
this isnt about anything in particular, just found this community and felt the need to go on a rant...i work in a bar...a sportsbar...i dont like sports...so yeah...i guess if you had to label me, id be a rivethead/goth...or a fetish goth...or sometimes perkygoth...whatever, i dont fit into a sportsbar really...i definitely have my own style so far as the work uniform goes, but corporate management does a pretty good job of keeping me in check..anyway...it seems like people just look at me and automatically think i am this naughty little vixen and this means i like 45 yr old men? or something along those lines...and its always like this
ME/ *smile* hey whats up?
OD/ *blank stare* good, youself?
literally, 10-20 minutes later...the question comes
OD/ what time do you work till tonite?
ME/ till after your gone and i finish cleaning...heh
mind you...not all these guys are initially creepy...i just cant imagine asking such a question from the get go...
THEN they usually go off into their own brand of being and old guy trying to mac on the young girl bartender....on a daily basis i have to step out (the bar is like a stage in this joint...and there is a backstage where a server and a bartender can be the freakazoids we really are) and smack myself in the forhead wondering what these people think...i know it doesnt sound as bad as it normally feels, but thats cause im trying to supress specific situations from resurfacing in my memory.. i know that i should be flattered, i just dont know how to bow out of this situation gracefully...i mean...i am engaged..and i wear a ring..and i dont hide it....too many people think its a fake tho...whatevah...youll hear from me again.. ;)
Mood: happy to have found you!
walking along miding our own business
with a retarded old grin on his face.
exit stage left.
I'd like to thank Autumn for telling me I wasn't alone, that there was a place that I could share ;)
My name is Jess and I have a problem. I have a long history of attracting strange older men (so far no strange older women have hit on me). It started when I was 17 and studying in the Public Library. The man who'd been sitting a table away from me and said "You are truly beautiful, if you were older I would ask you on a date." It stopped for a while, probably because he was sniffing glue and thus was the only person to see me as "truly beautiful."
I now work downtown (no not that kind of work, I'm in a bookstore) where I am continually hit on by stange older people, and in particular while I'm not sure if it's hitting on but Creepy Older Guy creeps me out.
Last Wednesday a 30-something Spanish man came back to the store asking when we closed and if I wanted to have a coffee with him. I declined. Then yesterday a man who has seen me around often (strange, I'd never noticed you before...) asked if I wanted to go for coffee or see a movie. Once again I declined.
Last Friday, a boy I like to call Lolita (because he's so cute yet only 17) asked me how old I was. "20" "Really? Don't take this the wrong way but you look a lot younger."
This means that old men all around the downtown area are hitting on a girl who looks 16.
Oh, I found a dead bug in my couch.
i have some funny pants...you did say that was acceptable discussion...and i found some crackery caramel corn in the sofa...but no one here eats that...so...we dont know where it came from...do you do any PI work?
Afterwards, at the Mall
Thanks, mister! I'm so glad the guy who's car I just smashed is here so I can talk to him instead!
ello ello! i've just joined and i feel the need to share. ok... im 15 so pretty much everyone is older than me but ill just stick to the creepy old people stories.
well this mardi gras, two friends (candice and elizabgeth), one elizabeth's sister (heidi) and i were all in the french quarter. while we were walking... erm... inching through the crowd on Bourbon Street we stopped on a corner because the crowd stood at a stand still. i had just purchased a boa and i feel it moving around on my shoulders and brushing up on my neck. i turn around and there was an old lady... ill say around 50 fluffing up my boa. she told me "oh such a pretty boa for such a pretty girl" normally i wouldn't think anything of it but this time she had that look in her eye. she hugged me from behind, put her hands on my waist and started to take my boa away and was asking me if she could wear it. i took it back from her and thanks for my friends being there because liz hugged on me and looked at the old woman like she was insane. as we walked on we cracked up laughing. oye!
After my first unfortuate experience some months back, I was encouraged by my psychologist to write a happy song about old men. APparantly it woudl help me get over my fear of the dreaded old man pick up line "hey Girly, u wanna sit in the back row of the movies with me??" My song is to the tune of post man pat:
Old man grey
Old man grey
Old man grey
and his black and white...grey
Yeah, i know. I just couldn't figure out what to rhyme with grey. Its quite catchy and it does the job.
i didn't plan to write a novel...
just the fact that this community exists has brightened my day.
anyway... here's my story... the guy was not a senior citizen or member of aarp, but in the 50+ bracket.
ok, so i'm a this crappy bar waiting for my friends to play so i get a drink. i feel the lusty eye of the gentleman next to me and proceed to give him a better view of the back of my head.
"so you know any cool places to hang out around here?"
this isn't happening...
"i'm not from around here," i reply.
"where ya from?"
i see this will continue and the bartender is no where in sight...
"north jersey," i say hoping it will satiate him.
"where in north jersey?"
"um... i'm not giving you my address if that's what you're asking."
"i used to live in newark."
"do you live in newark?"
finally the bartender appears... i don't know how he did it, but he actually rode in on a white horse. his robes swirled and flowed with his graceful movements... the roof opened up and let in the most beautiful pink rays of sunlight... which was hard to beleive since it was 10:30pm! he waved a magic wand and a glass of wine appeared in my hand.
i flashed him a twinkling smile and hurried back to my friends...
inevitably, i needed another drink 3 minutes later and came to the bleak realization that i would have to face the barstool ogre again.
i approach the bar....
the subject seems hypnotized by a lancelot link movie playing on the tv above. i seize the opportunity and plan to do a quick in/ out mission.
sir bartender nods and slides another glass of wine my way... i slap down a few bucks, and quickly turn to leave...
face to face with my old friend...
"so you're back again"
i force a smile and begin to walk away.
"you know", he calls, "the monkey is a great actor. he's the best part of the movie!", he adds excitedly.
i suddenly pull a 'chandler-from-friends' quizzical head jerk.
what a line.
i raced to my friends to tell them the odd story.
"you're not going to beleive this... but the guy at the bar..."
my friend faced her hand and said, "monkey story?"
"he told me about the monkey, too."
funny? maybe just to me.