I usually don’t pay attentin to anyone staring at me in public. But if they’re really obvious about it, I just put my clothes on and leave.
Man, that’s one unpleasant image, eh?
The “I’m not trippin” story sounds to me like the guy sensed nervousness and was just trying to make conversation.
I also live in a town where I hear people refer to totally safe neighborhoods full of happy families as the “bad parts”, which apparently is everywhere in this city because white people are a majority only in a very small part of it…or anyway, that used to be the case, though gentrification is on the creep. It’s all my fault, I’m sorry. I ruined the neighborhood. When I moved in, I was the only white face for twenty blocks or more. Now rent’s up a zillion percent and there are fancy new cars with rainbow flag stickers on the bumper everywhere. I have absolutely no idea what to feel. I can’t afford to live there anymore, so I’m back in the “bad parts” where I feel more at home anyway. (I grew up in the real bad part of my home city, which was once determined to be the twelfth poorest neighborhood in the country; this is the high life).
Anyway, I get stared at a lot around my actual home, because of the above mentioned factors. I’m white, and I’m sort of visibly queer, and most people around here aren’t. Move up a few more blocks and it stops. Keep walking, it starts again. Doesn’t phase me. I smile at people, and usually they smile back. Sometimes they don’t. Not everybody has to be my buddy. People look at people who stand out to them. No harm done. I’ve been hassled (and worse, though not so much since I moved to NYC) in my life, so sometimes I get nervous, but I’m rarely anywhere isolated when I feel the ol’ hairy eyeball on my spine, so I just keep moving and try not to sweat it.
Welcome to my family. Happens to Mom, used to happen to Dad, happens to me and the bros and to all the cousins on both sides, which is a lot of cousins. We think part of it is also that we look like we know where we’re going. The “common features” part is confirmed: I have at least one twin who wasn’t born to my Mom; one of my bros is part of a set of unrelated triplets (we have a picture where we know which of the 3 is which thanks to the clothes; having similar faces meant that they even had the exact same model of glasses).
The one cousin who used to work as a club doorman says it was kind of funny, he’d be standing there with a pokerface, all these people on line would be looking at him with squeaky smile-attempts like he’s Godzilla in a black suit, and some lady old enough to be his mom or grandmom would come up saying “excuse me, squire, could you please tell me where St. Anthony’s is? I can’t seem to find it!” (yes, I know one wouldn’t usually say “squire” there - but one wouldn’t say “caballero” in spanish there, either, and that’s what they would call him)
I find myself staring at people quite often. It’s just a natural curiosity, some people look so interesting!
I don’t really notice staring- if anyone does it’s probably a man and he’s probably looking at my breasts.
I seem to get asked for directions by Spanish and Italian tourists a lot- I can sort of see why, I look (sort of) mediterranean, and appear to know where I’m going, so they probably just think I’m a Spanish/Italian ex-pat. Elderly American Ladies with bumbags (fanny packs) and sweat pants ask me for directions too…although I don’t know why.
I’d say bravissima!, picunursent! Who cares what you eat? And your husband should have been proud. [Can I repeat that?] A full minute??? I don’t want to use the (proverbial) Lord’s name in vain, but what the f*** was she thinking?
If–in fact–I were in the ER, I would want someone like YOU!
Me, too.
Yesterday morning on the train, I caught a man looking directly at me twice. It made me wonder, but it didn’t make me particularly nervous. I have red hair, and a “different” hairstyle (short, sort of bedhead-ish) at the moment, so that’s probably what caught his eye.
If he’d gotten off the train at my stop and followed me, that would have bothered me.
When I was younger, I used to assume that if a man was looking at me, it meant he was attracted to me. I don’t think that way any more - not because I think I’m “too old” or “unattractive,” but because I’ve grown up enough to realize that it could be any number of things, and to stop being preoccupied with attracting the opposite sex.
Ah, I have too many stories from this place.
This was on a Sunday afternoon (yes, in the afternoon!) around 3 o’ clock. I was walking down a relatively busy street, and 2 guys on bikes (probably about 17 years old. Again for the record, one was Hispanic and one was black. The Hispanic one spoke) stopped in front of me. He says:
“Where you from?”
Me: “From here.” I keep walking.
Him: “Wait, come 'ere.”
Me (still walking) “Whatcha want?”
Him: “I want your money.”
I continue walking.
Him: “Hold on, come 'ere dawg.”
I look and he is going through his backpack, as if going for a weapon, but I never saw one. Like I mentioned, the street is fairly well trafficked, it was afternoon, and there were actually people on the sidewalk about 100 feet away. So I just kept walking. Didn’t look back. They didn’t pursue me.
In this case, he wasn’t trying to sell me drugs, he was being territorial. He said it was “his hood” and since I lived in it too, he wanted to know who I was.
Not too long ago a guy in the grocery-store line kept turning and glaring at me. I just ignored it. After a few more times he finally asked if my last name was such-and-such. It isn’t. It turns out that I was the spitting image of his brother-in-law, who died a year before—to nearly the same date. Weird.
Stuff like that’s happened to me a number of times. That’s why I’ll never be a good juror where eye witnesses are concerned.
I find that if I tuck the necklace of my victims’ severed ears underneath the collar of my shirt, I get a lot less gawking from the lookie-loos. But then again, having a bloody ring-around-the-collar isn’t exactly what one would call “subtle” either.
Tripler
Man, I hate laundry days. :smack:
I think that would make you a very good juror. And very unlikely to be selected.
This is more or less off-topic, but as I’ve grown older I’ve had to do just the opposite. For the longest time I never paid attention to that stuff and I just kind of assumed that no one was looking. As I’ve got older and talked to more people, I’ve realized that people are in fact looking at me in that way (at least occasionally). Even so, I still can’t really tell when that is.
…
…
…Every single story you keep telling sounds like somebody was trying to sell you drugs and you completely misinterpreted them!
Yeah. And nobody keeps their weapon in their backpack! How useful is that? I’m gonna hurt you man, just hang on while I set this down and rifle through it…
I never thought of a “Spongess” as being male (that is to say, with a ).
WAIT!!! Am I being presumptive?
With a hardy hardy har har?
When it’s the middle of a Sunday afternoon and people are about they do. It’s not like he would just be waving it around wildly.
I’ve dealt with plenty of drug dealers. They don’t stop you on the street and say “I want your money” the way he did. He was looking for trouble.
I’m guessing you’re 10-20 years younger than I. 