(no subject)

[rkt]

back in the heartland (where nobody talks to each other), i rode mass transit all the time. i came to expect frequent conversations with completely random people telling me about their life/day. much of the time, these people were men who were ultimately aiming at hitting on me in some sort of weird fashion.

they weren't all evil.
the majority were, however, mentally ill on some level.

bob, the military veteran, who had about $50 in sacajewa dollars for the sole purpose of giving them away to other people single handedly helped save my view for humanity for a bit when her gave me one (and, then, many months later, forgetting he had already given me one, gave me another] when my view of mankind was at a partcluar low. not so much because he had given the coin to me, but because he had them to give away.
more often than not though, i was left wondering what it was about me that made me such a magnet for people who gave off creepy, stalker-esque vibes. and why i could not help but continue to be nice to them. i'm the not-so-original anti-nice...
and, anyway, other people ride the bus all the time and never have anyone say more than 2 words to them.

so then i moved to nyc.
reknowned for it's crazy subway ridership.
it took me a year, and a move to brooklyn, before another such rider felt the need to really talk to me.
(i'm not saying other riders hadn't talked to me before. they just werent the sort i minded giving my "real" name to.)

yesterday, i actually put an effort into my clothes. it happens sometimes. after work, i took my time coming home. i stopped at b&n in downtown brooklyn. got back on the train. soon after, i found myself talking to some random 50+ year old guy.
he was jewish, and felt bonded to me because of my name.
he showed me his college transcripts from 1970.
he got an a in psych.
he showed me his resume.
he shares the same zip code as me.
he also shared an essay about how he came to be hospitalized after his then-girlfriend wanted to slow the relationship and how evil of a slut she was for wanting that.
and told me how great it would be to get a bottle of wine together.

he asked me my name and i gave it, because i couldn't remember the name i give. i knew my name wasn't rachel, so the apparent alternative was the real name.
(everybody forgets and thinks it's rachel. it's too hard to know if i gave them that name as a cover or because they forgot.)

i ended up waiting, past my stop, to get off the train, just to avoid revealing any clue as to where i lived.
I DON'T DO THAT.


i've concluded, i'm more annoyed at my reaction than anything else.