Last night a guy came into the cafe and hit on Claire. He was a little twerpy guy with glasses, wearing a standard-issue light blue dress shirt tucked into khakis. He said to Claire, "I've noticed you here before. You're the cute girl who works in the cafe." He proceeded to interview her, asking her name, what she does, studies in school, what her "ambitions" are, etc. Then she went on her break and went into the back room. This guy then said to Kat, who had witnessed the whole thing, "I just love those random encounters with people." I wanted to shout, "There was nothing RANDOM about that! You singled her out, watched her from afar, closed in, and proceeded to prey on her, intrude, pry, and ask her unsolicited questions about herself! That wasn't random, that was totally calculated and smarmy!" And this fucker probably considers himself a real smooth operator. Probably uses that line all the time, considers it a real unique, winning angle, sees himself as being sensitive, charming, charismatic, but not afraid to go after what he wants--like "cute girls" (not women, mind you) who are otherwise strangers. I told Kat recently, "Every day something happens that makes me ashamed of my gender." Usually it's being called a faggot by a member of said gender, or sitting on my porch with a female friend, as I was the other day, and having a carful of men drive by and yell, "Fuck her! I did!" or watching a big loud boorish man bark orders to his wife while they wait in line at the cafe. Last night, it was Mister Khaki McSmarmyface. Thanks a ton, you fucker.

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