So, reading Zed's latest post had me reflecting this evening, because I'm seriously conflicted and torn about this issue. Not whether [my] people should speak to each other on the street/acknowledge each other's existences/do the head nod that says "I see ya" whatever --because I'm down for that, no question. Regardless of my status as the reigning Ice Queen, I am usually ready to conversateconfabulateconfrusticate with the Soul Glo Patrol. Exception: I shut down any and every attempt at a pick-up. Not because I'm that bougie girl; not because I'm a frigid bitch; not because I think I'm better than you. I shut them down because I can't stand pick up lines on g.p. If you want to talk to me, talk to me. Let's have a conversation.*
So, anyway, I was prepared to side with the anonymous woman who comes in for a lot of abuse in Zed's comment section (I know I'm using this dude's first name like I know him, but it's the internet. Fuck it. I'm going for informality and brevity. Except by making this digression, I've wasted more space and more of your time) because I couldn't get past the first part of the story, where he decides that he was going to talk to her anyway, fuck her non-speaking ass (you have to read back a little bit on the dude's site for a little context here: the guy is locked into living in an undesirable area for awhile, and part of what makes it undesirable is the lack of black community) and I know that I've been that chick who's been reading on the bus/staring off into space/listening to music as I eat my lunch in a downtown park who responds monosyllabically to people trying to talk to me. The exchange usually goes one of two ways: either the person trying to insert themselves into my line-of-sight makes some kind of humorous comment about my unfriendliness and I will unfreeze long enough to confirm it, say something nice, and then move on; or they come out with some bullshit line like, "Come on, let's be friends. I just want to be friends. We can all use friends, girl." Well, yeah, we can, but your shady ass isn't standing there talking to my chest because you want someone you can watch football with, you lying fool. But that isn't
what Zed was after when he was trying to engage this random-soon-to-be-revealed-as-a-pigeon chick in conversation. As corny as it sounds, he just needed a short human-to-human connection. Which makes me wonder if I should be less quick with brush-offs in the future.
Of course, I won't be, because -- and I can't stress this to you enough, people -- I am mean. At any given moment, I am probably looking off into space plotting how to buy more twelve-sided die and Blade Runner memorabilia before I completely retire to a cave with a lifetime supply of Grey Goose and Korean revenge flicks. If you start talking to me, I guarantee you that you will wish you hadn't. You think it's bad that I don't talk to you? It would be infinitely worse if I did. You don't want to hear anything I have to say. Trust.
But anyway, the point is that, ultimately, Zed's "I'm Not on the Debate Team" girl was ridiculous. Turns out she was running him all the time, but just wanted to be sure that he had paper/prestige/power. Ah, there she goes, making it even worse for us non-public-speaking Crabby Patties.
*You know this shit is theoretical, because -- well, I said it at the beginning. I don't like people, and I don't talk to strangers and yes, that means I won't make new friends but the cotdamn bus is full, anyway. I'll die a lonely, misanthropic old lady, and I'll choke on bile while the rest of you chuckleheads get together and live full, loving lives. I get it, ok? I've said my piece and I've made my peace.