Yesterday, Jennifer and I discussed the annoyances of somebody persisting his (or her) attempt to seduce another person despite rejection. Later that evening, I went out with a couple of friends, including fellow Gloss writer Amanda Chatel as well as my ex-boyfriend. Ex-boyfriends — and men who hang around you, in general — are an excellent deterrent for possible creepers who just plain won’t leave you alone, so for the first half of the night, I managed to completely avoid any form of being hit on or otherwise pursued.
Now, I’m pretty awkward in person (seriously, my voice gets really high-pitched when I mean new people and I have acid reflux so I’m constantly gagging; I am not sexy), but it always surprises me how much guys at bars don’t care. They’re super drunk, they’re super annoying and they’re super dedicated to this idea that if they just try a little bit harder, you’ll uncontrollably fall into their arms, swooned and seduced.
So, last night, I was drinking a beer while sitting at the bar when some guy comes up behind me and starts talking to me. Having grown up in a small city, I’m quite friendly to strangers and like to meet new people, so I was nice and conversational towards him. He bragged about being a scuptor and growing up in England (cool story, bro) while I nodded a lot, attempting to pay attention while I simultaneously made a mental list of everything I’ll need in order to move next week as well as what recipes with avocado I could make for breakfast. I kept my physical distance, but he kept edging closer so eventually, once I’d had enough of the awkward push-and-pull game — about 45 minutes after this commenced — I decided to be completely honest (yes, I should’ve done this initially but I hate being mean and who am I to assume people’s intentions?).
“Just so you know, I think you’re a very nice person, but my vacation is over tomorrow and I’m really not interested in going home with anybody.” I think this is a totally valid statement and a not mean way of rejecting somebody, but he replied, “I’m planning on doing so anyway.” Uh, what? Are you going to kidnap me? Am I contractually obligated? PLEASE DO NOT SAY “ANYWAY.”
He then refused to stop trying to convince me to join him, actually waited outside the bar for me and kept saying, “Oh, you’ll change your mind.” This went on for a long time until I literally just pretended to pass out on the street — I had Amanda and our new random bar friend with me so it wasn’t like this guy could carry me away, I just wanted him to stop following us — and he walked away.
…ONLY TO COME BACK. Still drunk, still asking me to come home with him. So what did I do?
I got down with my inner opossum and played fucking dead again. Well, not “dead,” just “really, really drunk and unable to support body weight.” Eventually, he got into a cab and left.
This morning I woke up with hella bruises, however, so I’m a bit frustrated with Drunk Sam for not just being able to get the guy away simply using words. But why weren’t those words enough? I don’t think “playing dead” is an option for everybody; it was silly and kind of painful and definitely could’ve been unsafe if I was alone. Nevertheless, I felt desperate to get him to back off and saw this as one of my only options, since saying, “No, I’m not interested at all” didn’t see to work whatsoever.
Obviously, my initial answer should’ve clued him into my disinterest. But it wasn’t enough, because some people just don’t take “no” for an answer. They may not be violent or actually willing to harm you, but it’s still fucking obnoxious and, after a while, it falls under harassment. Why not just cut your losses and leave? It feels sad and creepy, both of which are pretty unappealing to both men and women.
So, men and women of the world — when somebody doesn’t want to fuck you, just leave it at that. Or they will be forced to play dead, throw salt at you and/or get very angry, because being overly persistent is annoying and rude and will never, ever get you laid.
By the way, here is your proof:
Photo: Warner Bros.