The NERVE of Some People.

I was standing in line at a gas station this morning, waiting to pay for gas, when I felt like someone was standing way too close to me.
I hate those kind of people…the ones that stand right up your ass in line, like we’re a bunch of kids in the lunchroom and someone might come and cut in front of you if you leave too much of a space between yourself and another person.  I turned my head to glare at said no-space-giver and as I did my face was literally met with his.  An older gentleman’s fucking face was practically all up in my neck.  As I turned, he caught a glimpse of my chest tattoo and said how nice it was.  “It’s beautiful work. Did you get it done here in town?”
I was in the middle of saying thank you and telling him where I get my work done, when he started circling me and inspecting me like I was a display at a gallery.  He pondered over each piece…studying it.  At this point, I’m just keeping my eyes forward.  I could feel my cheeks getting red and I just wanted to push him.  Seriously…what the hell was taking the guy at the register so long?! It felt like the longest line on Earth and there were only 2 people ahead of me.
Then no-space-giver spoke. I guess he could see the look of disgust on my face or something.

“It’s ok. I tattoo.”

Like this is supposed to make me feel more comfortable about him being all up on me.  Really.
So, if some random dude in a bar starts pawing at my boobs with one hand and sticks his hand in my hoo-ha with the other, then tells me, “It’s ok. I’m a gynecologist.” I shouldn’t be worried? Or freaked out in the least bit?

I felt yucky.  He did step back when I obviously wasn’t going to engage in conversation and told me to take care of myself as I walked out the door. Oh, I’ll take care of myself, mister.  Especially with weirdos like you walking around this city.  Fuck.

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