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As I slowly walked down the street, I looked around me. Just a little bit further and I would be at my apartment. Looking at my phone, I saw that I already had a match on Tinder. As I got closer to my building, I realized that I was being followed by a young woman with a child. She appeared to be in her mid twenties and was dressed in an extremely awkward combination of workout wear, the clothes that she thought of as “professional” but really should have worn in a very different time and season, and brand name designer shoes. The low visibility of her hoodie, head scarf and sunglasses, in combination with its bright pink color, made me very nervous. It was almost as if she was trying to disappear instead of be seen. I had never seen anyone pretending so hard to have poor fashion sense. I couldn’t help but wonder how people were reminded to check their privilege when someone was as audacious and loud as her. And in this weather!
I would have felt bad for her, but she looked exactly like the sort of woman that I hated. She was obviously so obsessed, so superficial and so materialistic. I knew that at the end of the day, the only thing that she valued was the size of her bank account. I needed to get home. I didn’t want to be seen with her.
Starting to walk faster, I turned around and looked at her, hoping that she would see that as an indication that I did not want to be near to her, and I could just feel it in my gut that she would move on. Nothing happened. She stood there. I continued walking and then when I finally felt as if I was far enough, I turned back and looked at her.
My heart began to race and about ten different signs of anxiety all hit me at once. But then, I realized she was actually now staring at me. She had all but stopped walking and was just staring me. I guess I had come to that realization a bit too late. As she stared, I got increasingly nervous. That was when a smile crept up on her face. I looked down, as I’ve been trained to do, because I could feel my face burning in embarrassment. I heard steps running towards me and jumped away slightly. She grabbed my arm. Not roughly, but she grabbed it.
I looked at her, but that smile never left her face. Just staring at her, I thought I was going to go insane. There I was, standing in the middle of the street, with a woman that obviously has problems. I tried desperately to think of things I could say to end the interaction. Anything that could have ended it without thinking about why something would have ended it. I would have said anything. I would have done anything, really. I looked at her, and said the only thing that I could think of.
“I don’t have any cash, I’m sorry.” She kept staring. In fact, she moved even closer. I noticed for the first time that she wasn’t wearing any shoes, even though it was cold enough for me to be wearing winter boots. I glanced at the ground for a moment and noticed the two winter boots at her feet.
She had moved so close that her face and mine were nearly touching. Her smile had morphed into something else. She just stared at me, expressionless. It began to dawn on me that she was clearly not a nice person. There she was, not wearing shoes or a coat and staring me cold. Her smile became threatening. I just stared straight ahead. “Are you sure you don’t have any money, or any kind of compensation that would let me make a purchase?”
I finally had an idea. She was obviously really ill. It would be easy to look down and see that she had no feet below her ankles. But I didn’t want to make a scene, because if I started.. It also became obvious that she had a bad condition, as her legs looked like they were on backwards. This was becoming so weird. I updated my Tinder profile that I wasn’t interested in sick people.
“What about your shoes? You’re not wearing any shoes”. I walked faster live updates tinder. I was hoping that she was going to go away. I felt my phone vibrate in my pocket. I pulled it out hesitantly, afraid that it was her. It was my mother, undoubtedly calling about how she couldn’t find my breakfast, lunch, or dinner. I was actually getting pretty hungry, but she always made me feel so guilty about my weight. It almost didn’t matter that I was taller with more muscle than she would ever be. It almost didn’t matter that I was an engineer who had the potential for a high salary, who was the top in his class. Nothing I did would ever be enough for her.
“I’m going to have to accept cash, or any compensation that you have that would make me pay for a purchase. There’s really no other way.” I was starting to feel really panicked. A motorcycle was approaching us from the side, so I started walking in such a way so it would go around us.