Unapproachable

It’s a lame proclamation to say that I want to keep social distancing around forever because I don’t like people. That line is going to be worn the fuck out when comedians get back on stage. It’s pandering. I hate myself for even writing it. But it’s true. 

I have a weird relationship with shopping. I’m horrified to go to stores on the off chance that I run into someone I know, but at the same time I don’t like online shopping. I know that’s like a sin, but shutup about your online shopping addiction no one thinks you’re relatable. Or cares. I like to mosey around stores and waste my money on things that is completely unrelated to my original target purchase. My perfect shopping scenario is one in one out, whole store to myself.

After death, running into someone you haven’t seen in awhile at a store is the worst thing that can happen to you. I’ll run, I’ll hide, I’ll go down aisles I have no business being in, or read the back labels of things that have nothing to do with me in the hopes that my acquaintance won’t approach me. And it’s not easy for a man of my stature to hide in public. 

People you know and don’t want to see are like weiners in a gym locker room. As much as you hope you don’t run into one, you’re going to make eye contact with it if it’s there. Make eye contact enough times with a familiar face and they will without fail come up to you with a long “Hiiiiiiii”. My last such encounter was with an old neighbor who moved off our block years ago. I drifted off somewhere around “yeah we just had to put the dog down...” and thought to myself “I wonder if I scream at the top of my lungs in the middle of this Walgreens would this lady legitimately sprint away from me”.

I made the mistake of going with my dad to Barnes and Noble once. Because my dad’s an idiot who was a cop for thirty years in a small community he introduced me to an employee who he knew from town. Not AT ALL realizing I went to grammar school with this girl for seven years. I go to Barnes and Noble at the very least once a month and will be in there for an hour at a time. Both her and I both know one another is in the store. I’ve avoided this moment since 2014. I looked this girl dead in her eyes and said “nice to meet you”. We walked away and I told my dad how I was fantasizing about dragging his head through the “H” row of the Science Fiction section. 

“What’s wrong with you?”

“I’ve known that girl since preschool.”

“Why’d you say nice to meet you?”

“I’ve pretended she doesn’t exist for years and planned on never talking to her again in my life.”

“Somethings wrong with you.”

My parents don’t have or understand this issue. In fact, they seek out people they know in stores. Even worse, they seek out people I know in stores. “What’ve you been up to” rips off a part of my soul every time I hear it. The worst part is, and this is the part my parents don’t get, is that although I haven’t talked to this person in nine years I know every single thing that’s happened to them since - because we’re still Facebook friends. It’s uncomfortable to ask someone how they’ve been for the last decade when you already creepily know all their children’s names from all the baby pictures they post or when you’ve seen every step of their “keto journey” for the last eight months. 

I’d rather talk to a complete stranger in public than someone I might have even been friends with at one point. So if you know me or have known me and you see me out, can we please agree that the other person doesn’t exist and go on with our day. Six feet away now, six feet away forever.