Supah Freak

Many of my nearest and dearest know that I have a funny little quirk, over which I have no real control. I can’t quite remember when this trait emerged, but it’s been with me for so long, I can’t imagine not having it.

I am a freak magnet.

I don’t know what it is about me – maybe I emit some kind of pheromone that anyone with a chemical imbalance or a somewhat looser definition of propriety than me will find completely irresistible. Maybe I just look like the kind of person who wants random people to talk to her (I’m not). Really, who knows? But it’s amazing to me how, despite peaks and valleys, my freak magnet status remains. They range from the benign to the somewhat unnerving, and everywhere in between. Don’t believe me? Here’s a brief sample…

• Sophomore year of college, working retail. I was minding my own business, polishing a geode or something, when this somewhat tense woman, turned to me abruptly and asked me my name. Foolishly, I told her. She then proceeded to launch into a diatribe about how the world’s poverty problems could be solved by people being taxed on space they owned but didn’t use, and how there were two types of people in the world – people who liked wind chimes and people who liked sundials. Apparently, wind chime people like flowers, and sundial people wear watches. I found myself unable to break into the conversation and excuse myself, as her edgy, rapid-fire monotone didn’t allow for any interruptions. I had to wait until she wound down, only to see my manager out of the corner of my eye, collapsed over the counter, helpless with silent laughter.
  

• Junior year of college – a double header with my friend J. We were walking down the street and some guy walks up to us and asks “Are you two sisters?” J is half Korean, and I’m about 6 inches taller than her. She is also from Long Island, so she stared at him for a second and said “yeah – how did you guess?” As we kept walking, he shouts after us “You two are the epitome of beauty, class, and elegance!!” Just as J is about to say something to me, we turn a corner, and some guy looks at me and starts serenading me with “PYT”. We know it’s me, not because J couldn’t also have been referred to as a pretty, young thing, but because he was staring straight at me. And made some kind of appreciative grunting noise before launching into his song. Without even looking over, J shakes her head sadly and says “this is all your fault, you know.”

• My little Algerian friend in London. Since I’m too lazy to link to the post, here’s what happened. I was crossing the street to get to Westminster Abbey, when I heard a voice behind me say "vous êtes Française? (are you French?)" I replied "Non, mais je parle Français (no, but I speak French)". The voice belonged to a fairly nondescript guy who was now walking next to me - a bit shorter than me (as many guys are), and smiling broadly. He asked where I was from, and I figured I was finally in a country where it was safe to admit to being from the US, so I said I was American. He said that he was from Algeria and then said "you know, you're very beautiful", to which I replied "oh...okay." He kept talking about something or another, and as the other side of the intersection approached, I turned to politely say goodbye and walk in whichever direction he wasn't walking in. As we parted ways, he called out "You know, you are a very sexy woman!" All in an accent reminiscent of Maurice Chevalier.

• A couple of weeks ago, I left the Rockville Metro Station to go pick up my car at my mechanic’s, since my dad needed to borrow it that day while his car was in the shop. I walked the two blocks and got into my car, putting the keys in the ignition. I looked over to my right, and saw a guy on a motorcycle had pulled up next to my car. So close that, had I tried to open the door, I would have knocked it into his bike. He was motioning for me to roll my window down, and figuring that a quick getaway would have been easy if necessary, I did. A very little. He started trying to talk, but his very snug helmet meant that he was completely unintelligible. I said “I can’t hear you”, so he struggled to dislodge his head from the helmet, succeeding just as the bus parked across the street started its engine. Once again, his words were muffled. I looked at him somewhat impatiently and motioned that I still couldn’t hear him. The bus left, and he said “I drove all the way down here just to catch up with you!” to which I replied “well, I can’t see why, since I don’t know you.” His reply was “well girl, I’m trying to get to know you.” I stared at him for a split second, wondering vaguely if he really thought I was going to say “ooh – okay? Can I hop on your bike?” and instead I said “that’s sweet, but not a good idea”, started the engine, and did a U-turn. Quickly.

• And finally, last night, after a lovely birthday dinner at Sonoma for AS, after we had bid Brunette adieu so she could walk to her car and I could drive AS home, we were heading toward my car and two older guys getting into a car parked in front of me said “excuse me…” I figured they needed directions or something. No, no. One of them starts talking about the Mona Lisa (presumably comparing me to her? But since those theories abound that it was really Leonardo da Vinci in that painting, I suppose I should be somewhat insulted. Do I look manly?) and I was very confused, waiting for him to get to his point, when I felt AS tug on my hand and pull me toward my car. At which point, I said “oh, I just got what was he was getting at…”

So there you have it. My name is Mandy. And I’m a freak magnet.