I was innocently listening to my iPod and scribbling away in my journal about letting go of my expectations and living in the moment, I notice several different guys starting in my direction. I am positively careful not to make eye contact. This is my sunshine afternoon to myself, and I will not have it blackened by the likes of some random.

So I managed to avoid several male onlookers and as I was thinking I should make another attempt to find this boutique I'd passed a few days earlier, a short and stocky Asian dude sat next to me and said: "What are you listening to?"
Me: "Beach House."
Him: "Oh, you like house music!'
Me: "No it's a band, called Beach House."
Him: "I'm a D.J.!"
Me: "Oh, cool."
Him: "Yeah, I love house music. Do you drive?"
Me: "Like do I know how to drive or do I actively drive?"
Him: "Well, I mean like I don't have a car here, so I don't really drive. I didn't have a car in Chicago either, which meant I didn't drive for seven years. But like last weekend I rented a car and just put a house CD in and drove."
Me: "That sounds bad for the environment."
Him: Nervous laughter. "Well those CD's are like seven hours."

There there was a bit of silence, and I wondered if maybe he was a little slow. He continued to stare at me, and when I was uncomfortable enough I said: "So, um where are you from?"
Him: "You're never going to believe this, but I'm from Wisconsin." Like I would know nothing about the great state of Wisconsin.
Me: "That's funny. I went to the University of Wisconsin."
Him: "What, a fellow badger?!?!" He held up his hand for a high five.

Oh good god. A little vomit filled my mouth because I'm really into high fives. For some reason I'm not that good at them, but what was I to do? He had a sort of rash or maybe it was birthmark thing covering his eye and something was wrong with his left front tooth, like it was mechanically inserted into his gum but with a bit of tooth/gum separation and a bit of blackness around the separation. You can't leave someone like that hanging. So I hesitantly connected my palm to his.

Him: "Yeah, I just moved out here for graduate school."
Me: "Oh what are you studying?"
Him: "[something really scientific with a lot of syllables]" He is Asian remember.
Me: Silence. Because what would I say to that?

I'll spare you the rest of the conversation where he tried to pronounce Sanskrit yoga terms; but note that there was a second high five after which I said I had to go to Nike Town to look for sneakers. While he was still chatting about taking up running, I packed up my journal and bid a quick but polite farewell.

Inside of Nike Town, I stood near women's running sneakers when I noticed a short Asian man peering at me from behind the windbreakers. He ducked down. I registered my impeccable intuition but felt fear free, so I continued towards the men's. From the corner of my eye I could see him around the wall. So I did what any frequently stalked woman would do and ignored him. Several minutes later, I saw him peering from behind the men's basketball mani. This time I quickly but effortlessly rushed towards the escalator to exit. Halfway down, I noticed him standing at the bottom of the escalator next to the security guard.

Him: "I thought I'd check out some new kicks too! Thanks for the idea!"
Me: "Oh, good luck with that."
Him: "Good luck with yoga and writing and going to see art and running and..."

I was mostly appalled by my casual ability to openly share with a desperate stranger. In that moment, I realized why I have so many weird, crazy, creepy dude stories. This may come as a shock to you: I'm hopelessly nice. Nice to a fault. I feel bad for these dudes. It's hard to go up to a pretty woman, sunlight catching her green eyes, hair blowing in the wind and whatnot. I think of that MTV show with that guy and he tried to teach those nerdy guys how to score chicks. I would have talked to all of those guys, which I guess makes me a leader on-er of sorts.

Emma Dinzebach