Eight: It’s not fate, it’s hate

I apologise for the week’s silence. Luckily, a lack of updates does not equate to a lack of blog-worthy encounters.

Who: Waist of Space
Pick-up method: I was sitting on the bus enjoying my morning paper when I noticed WS staring and smiling at me from the ticket validation machine. When our gaze met, his grin grew… and he began a slight thrusting motion that somehow involved his waist (well, entire abdomen, really), rather than just his hip/groin area. I rolled my eyes and returned to my paper, but WS kept at his air humping for quite some time. Guy had stamina.
Why I won’t be sleeping with you: I could list at least a dozen reasons right now (no exaggeration, I counted). But one, and only one, needs to be mentioned: You were wearing a fanny pack*. Enough said.

* Translation for British readers: bum bag

Who: Pooper Non-Scooper
Pick-up method: I noticed PNS walking his dog one morning as I was wandering into town. Upon seeing me, he stopped and winked from across the narrow side street that separated our paths. PNS watched me as I approached, looking me up and down a few times while maintaining a slight smile. As he stood there his dog squatted. Then defecated. Right there. In the middle of the sidewalk. When finished, PNS gave me a little wave and then continued on his way.
Why I won’t be sleeping with you: I understand that you are not the only one in France to manage your pet’s needs in such a way. And I admit that in my line of work I’m accustomed to having bits of excrement from various non-human animals in my hair and on my shoes. But I prefer to keep that as a special experience for the office only, and the piles of faecal matter on the sidewalk really make that goal a bit of a challenge. I choose not to reward those who hinder my quest for a hygienic after-hours existence.