So last spring I was sitting on the bus reading a book (A Complicated Kindness by Miriam Toews--highly recommended, starts out hysterical but spirals into despair. Mennonites, man. Not quite the charming, loving, Old-World simple folk that Rhonda Janzen tried to pass her kin off as being). Anyway, this fellow strikes up a conversation and it really piques his interest that I'm a librarian. "Oh I have some old illustrated Bible pages, how can I display them? I love old books." And I tell him a bit about the dangers of direct sunlight and why you prop up books so not to bend the spine, show off my 1 credit hour of archives knowledge.
And then he asks me if I want to meet sometime and go to a movie and I say no. I mean whatever, but I am not attracted, his breath smells, and he seems a bit weird. Also, I reject the idea that just because I dare to be a woman in public doing things I should be macked on by men, especially men who interrupt my reading time. I mean I'll give him points for trying, but I have learned my lesson and I know I cannot be going places with someone after a 10 minute conversation. After 10 minutes my conversational skills are exhausted and I don't need to talk to anyone for at least 6 hours unless we are really on the same page. Like same references, listen to all the same podcasts, have extensive overlap in our reading materials. And I don't "go to the movies" anyway. Have you seen modern movies? I go to the movies with my mom and I don't even like to watch sex scenes with her, and she thankfully has barely acknowledged either of us has ever had sex since she did car sex ed when I was 6. And then of course, I must not want to go out with him because I'm married or have a guy or something and no, I just don't want to go out with you, dude.
So anyway, because my commute is LONG and the bus starts off crowded but thins out (I am usually one of the last 2-3 on the bus after an hour) I would occasionally see him but could avoid him for the next couple months. And then one day he sits next to me and I don't remember how exactly the this conversation gets started, but he makes the assertion that the United States is a ridiculously pro-abortion country. OH, REALLY? EXPLAIN TEXAS. And we are off to the races as I start calling him on his bullshit.
He is not an A+ arguer/discusser. Like maybe a B-. His argument is basically "abortion is bad because GOD" but he won't actually come out and say that. Instead he tries a lot of assertions based along the line that human beings are special, because they bury their dead (this is a big point with him), and you can't explain our evolution fully, and I poke holes in the argument all the way up Scottsdale Road. Which no, because animals mourn their dead. And humans are human because of a series of lucky environmental coincidences and anything could have evolved into humans based on enough time and luck. Maybe we could have been The Cat from Red Dwarf. Oh well there must be something other than evolution because of gaps in the fossil record. Oh you stupid intelligent designist. He tries the old "you must be pro-choice because you've had an abortion" angle. I say if or not, it's not relevant because I am a person with a brain and voting rights, you know. Because as a woman I can't have any opinions that don't stem from personal experience, apparently.
And his final summation, which he delivers with his supposed triumph clear in his voice is, "Well, if women don't want to get pregnant then they should be abstinent." And then I laugh because this fucker has no chance ever with me.
I don't even know what this guy's name is.
Then we abandon the Peak for the summer and then the bus schedule changes and I get on before 7am and I never see him again and that's fine with me.
So on Valentine's Day evening, I'm on the bus again on my side of town and holy hell he gets on. And he sits next to me and he's clearly feeling like "oh, I see that dumb liberal pro-choice girl and maybe I can win her over on Valentine's Day." And I say hello and he starts to talk and 15 seconds later I excuse myself as it's my stop anyway.
And I get off the bus.
Sheesh. My mom is right; I need a car.