My most original creep so far.

I get creeps A LOT - as in, on a semi-daily and at least bi-weekly basis. I have had total strangers ask me for directions to a hotel, only to ask me to go with them and fuck them there (this has happened so often that it is actually a fully formed Creep Category for me). I have had people approach me and offer to pay me for sex. I have had total strangers sit next to me at the bus stop and tell me they love me. I don’t mean people hitting on me - that’s fine. Someone comes up to say hi, or give you their number - even if you don’t find them especially attractive - no problem. Social contact. Circle of life.

BUT NOT IF THEY’RE A CREEP. And I think we all know the difference.

I’m sure we’ve all experienced creeps from time to time; maybe even regularly, like me - you poor, unfortunate bastard. But I seem to be especially cursed by them - almost exclusively male, always older, and hackitt* every single time. My point is: I’ve seen a lot of creeps. They usually piss me off - varying degrees on the rage spectrum, from “irritation” (you have been staring at my albeit exquisite boobs for ten minutes, and now you’re talking to me about why you hate the government) to “URGE TO KILL RISING” (you just touched me; now I will headbutt you).

A pleasant side effect of shaving my head is that I seem to be getting this less. That’s not why I did it, of course - I did it because it is AWESOME and deliciously cool in the summertime. And I get to pretend to be a samurai. But it has been a nice break, nonetheless. That is, until Friday. Friday - when I met my most original creep so far.

Long story short, I’m on my way to the train station and two navvies are working in and around a manhole. The guy up top says “careful, miss, don’t fall in!” The other, from his sub-terran position, says “yeah, it’s occupied in here!” Good-natured German giggling ensues. Man in the Hole then hauls himself up slightly, looks at me (not up and down, I noted), grins, and says “or maybe you’d like to come down in here with me?” Wink.

Maybe I was just in too good a mood to care that day (escaping to Berlin from Rostock will do that to a person), but I nearly, VERY nearly smiled at him. I’m pretty sure I had a “wry” expression on my face, if only because having someone climb out of a hole to perve on you is quite a surreal fucking experience.

So I guess I’m not so much applauding him as I am the sheer weirdness of the situation. Touché, universe - touché.

*Hackitt: Scots. “Hacked”; ugly, hideous. Modern translation of my ancient language: fugly.