I gave someone's number to some creepy French man on the train only to have him remember me months later when I was on the same train as him?
Yeah, ugh I am suuuuch a beeyatch. But a long, long time ago I was on the last train back to New Ro close to 2am on a Friday night (well, Saturday morning at this point). They were many vacant seats open so I had an array to choose from. Naturally, I opt for a window-seat with an empty seat next to me. I drunkenly feast on one of those pretzels I bought from a vendor outside of Grand Central Station.
Of course, this older gentleman, slightly disheveled, a little rotund and lacking some hair decided to pick the empty seat next to me to sit in. He would. Fucking creep. I thought to myself, "Really? Really. Of all the empty fucking seats you could lay your old, drunken body across, you decide to sit uncomfortably next to moi? Seriously, guy, look over there! That's a three-seater row with no one in it! WTF!"
What drunkenly came out of my mouth was actually this, "You want some pretzel?" And then his stupid French accent came out as he tried to "woo" me. Ha. Mind you, the French language is schexy. Scho schexy but only when not-so creepy folk speak it.
Read on for some dialogue:
After I asked him if he wanted some pretzel...
Creepy French Man: Oh, no thank you.
Me: Whoa! Are you French? Parle vous englais?
CFM: Oui, oui, I am haha...are you?
Me: Ummm, no! But I know a girl who's from Lyon.
CFM: Ah, yes Lyon. Beautiful.
Me: Haha yeah, don't you know it! (feeling awkward here, continue to eat pretzel)
CFM: So, where are you headed?
Me: Oh, uhh, I live in New Rochelle.
CFM: Me too!
Me: (feeling disgusted) oh. Yeah, it's not a bad area.
CFM: I'm looking to buy a place to live.
Me: Oh, you don't live there?
CFM: Well, you see, I rent. I'm looking to own an apartment.
Me: Oh, okayyyyy.
CFM: Yes...my, you are pretty!
Me: Ugh...thanks.
CFM shifts his body towards (gross) and touches my leg. I try to ignore the fact that he put his old, creepy hand on my leg.
Me: Yah, so, where are you looking to buy an apartment?
CFM: Uhh New Rochelle, maybe Larchmont or uhhh, Mamaroneck?
Me: Ohh, yeah Larchmont is nice.
His hand is still on my fucking leg and moving. ajkldfawioe;aji gdklfjsa!!
CFM: Oh, yeah?
Me: Uh huh...and so is Scarsdale.
CFM: Where do you think I should buy?
Me: I don't know really. What's your budget?
CFM: I don't really have one...
Me: (thinking, "Well aren't you a fucking high roller!") Hmm, yeah maybe Scarsdale. White Plains is also nice but that's can be pretty steap.
CFM: Oh really? I want to stay around New Rochelle.
Me: Well, I know the Avalon has really nice apartments near the train station. You know where that is?
CFM: Yes, yes (as he eerily stares at me still touching my leg and leaning in).
Me: Umm you might wanna chill out. I have a boyfriend.
CFM: Oh, do you?
Me: Yeah, he's a Marine. He's completed two tours - one in Iraq and one in Afghanistan (complete bullshit fyi).
CFM: Oh, I see.
Me: Yeah, but I'm probably gonna break up with him when he goes on his next tour in February.
CFM: Really?
Me: Yah, so maybe then we can talk.
CFM: Yes? You will give me your number when we get off the train?!
Me: Sure. But I get off at Pelham not New Rochelle.
CFM reaches for my hand and kisses it and continues to caress my leg.
Me: You better stop! My boyfriend is picking me up from the train station...and he has a gun.
CFM: (his hand is NOW off my leg) really? Your boyfriend is picking you up.
Me: Yeah, and if he sees me talking to you he'll blow up.
CFM: Oh, okay I'm sorry. But what is your name?
Me: It's Sam*
*I don't have a friend named Sam who's number I gave away. Let's say I literally took a number out of my phonebook and gave it to him.
CFM: Sam? Ohhh, Sam, you are beautiful.
Me: Yah, ok.
CFM: What is your number?
Me: (give CFM a number out of my phone)
CFM: Okay, so in February I can call?
Me: (Exhausted) yeah, yeah, yeah, okieee this is my stop. Nice meeting you kbyeeee.
CFM: Goodbye, Sam :)
Months go by since this occurred and I'm on a train going to Grand Central. I'm standing by the door waiting for the train to come to a halt so I can get off. A disheveled looking man is standing across from me. I caught him stealing some of my glances. He clearly got a haircut because I didn't know it was him at first. I get off the train jamming to my iPod.
CFM: Excuse me? Sam?
Me: Huh?
CFM: Is your name Sam?
Me: (COMPLETELY REMEMBERING WHO HE IS) uhhh no?
CFM: Oh, I'm so sorry. You look like my friend Sam.
Me: Uhh ok. (Turned white, jetted for the exit).
Hahaha and that fact that he referred to "Sam" as a friend. Balls. So, if any of you people who read my blog receive a phonecall from a creepy French-sounding man asking for "Sam", then you have me to blame for my drunken oopsie.
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