Is it my red hair? The fact that I look younger than I really am? My trusting, naive, unsuspecting face? The fact that I was raised a good Texan and automatically smile at people when I make eye contact, whether I want to or not?
Yesterday was a picture-perfect summer day. Sunny, breezy, not a cloud in the sky. I was downtown in the Pearl and decided to find a park, spread out, and read my Jacqueline Susann novel. Everything was going swimmingly. I even approached a lady with two pugs and we had a nice chat about their shedding habits. While engrossed in my trashy novel, I felt a man's presence looming above me. I look up--shit! Eye contact. I quickly look back down and pray he goes away. But no. He says loudly, "Hey, red. Red! Rosie!"
Ignore. Ignore. Nope, doesn't work. He keeps on. Rather than get involved in an awkward conversation that would end with him asking for change, I decided to grab my stuff and walk away. Quiet park moment of reverie is officially over. I make eye contact with two other young women also reading by themselves. They give me a "that sucks the crazy guy is picking on you" smile. Why me? Why didn't he go for the skinny one eating crackers ten feet over? Who knows how the crazy's mind works?
So I start walking down the street, when to my horror I realize he's following me. This event just went from annoying to creepy to wow, I'm really creeped out. He follows me for about two blocks, keeping his distance, but yelling "Rosie!" all the same. Finally he says, "I'll stop following you, ma'am, if you're not who I think you are."
Without turning around I yell, "Nope! Not her!" And he says, "Okie dokie" and walks away. And that was that. Ughhhhh. Funny story to tell friends. Not funny at the moment. The homeless/crazies here are so much more forward than back home. It's one of my least favorite Portland trends here. Is it wrong that I want to taser them? Being a single young lady can really suck donkey balls sometimes.
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