One thing I won't miss

I was waiting for Sara in the deportivo yesterday when, as usual, some guy thinks he can make my day by trying to chat me up. This time it was a fat, middle-aged postman.

I saw him come in on his bike and stop about fifty feet from me, starring. I could just see the gears turning in his head, deciding how to approach me. He bikes over and stops dead in front of me and asks for the time. I tell him it’s ten past four. He stays right where he is, unsure as to what to do next. Apparently my friendly but detached tone and eyes looking everywhere but at him aren’t enough of a hint, and he puts his bicycle off to the side and sits down next to me and proceeds to ask me fifteen minutes worth of awkward questions, punctuated by even more awkward silences, but even my obvious disinterest doesn't deter him. Even after Sara arrives and we start to walk to Chedraui, he actually follows us on his bike. Talk about really not getting the hint.

Look, I understand that he was just trying to be nice. I'm sure his intentions weren't exactly pure, but I know he didn't mean anything offensive by trying to chat with una güera bonita. But that doesn't mean I have to talk back if I don't want to, and when someone can't take a hint, that's annoying. Estoy esperando para una amiga means I came here with a purpose that did not include talking to you, and since I am clearly not engrossed in our conversation, you should be able to infer that I'm just not interested and leave with some dignity.

But I guess that's just not what they do here. I should be used to it by now, shouldn't I? I certainly won't miss it though.



In other more positive deportivo news, I went to watch the Northern Englishman play football today. Not only did no one hit on me (yay!), but we chatted for about an hour after the game, and then he walked me home. I'm just so in love with his the way his pronounces his Os and Us. Oh, Leeds' accents. Le sigh.