The other day I was on the subway, reading The Gay and Lesbian Book of Horror Stories (when I bought it, I hoped it would be things like boys waking up and finding everything in their wardrobe had turned to plaid, but, alas, no such luckit was stupid stories about double bass-playing lesbians and ghosts of concentration camp survivors) and a guy sitting across from me tried to pick me up. I tried to ignore him, because he was SO not my type (though from reading the entries I’ve written in this blog so far, one could understandably think that my type is “breathing”), but he foiled my attempts by sitting down next to me and forcing me to have a conversation with him. He said he worked at Talbot’s in loss prevention. Unfortunately he seems to have interpreted my speechlessness at the existence of this euphemism as encouragement to continue hitting on me.
I thought I would be able to lose him when I transferred to the 1/9 at 42nd Street, but my hopes were dashed when he got out there too. I stood there in mortal agony, trying to end our conversation. Finally I saw an opportunity to extricate myself, make good my escape, and never see him again.
So, naturally, I gave him my phone number instead.
Because I didn’t want to hurt his feelings.
And this is why you must memorize the phone number for the National Association for the Advancement of Psychoanalysis–212-741-0515. It’ll be a nice break in their day, trying to figure out what’s going on with this call.
If you don’t want to waste the time of the good people at NAAP, then try giving people their fax number instead–1-212-366-4347. When the person calls and gets a fax tone, he’ll be mystified for a while and eventually give up. However, he’ll never suspect that you gave him the fax number for the NAAP instead of your number, because that’s just too devious.
But nothing is too devious for moi.