Bad touch

(or "I just got off of work")

For some reason strangers like to touch me. I don't know what it is about me that is so very inviting. (impatient person's Amma perhaps?)

In Minneapolis while in a very full cafe talking to a friend a very drunk man sat at my table and started sucking on my fingers. I was saved by a gutter punk named Simon. (Thank you wherever you are)

On the way to celebrate my 5 year anniversary of living here, I was stopped on the street by a man who came up to me and stroked my cheek and said "You are very pretty. What are you doing right now? I just got off of work." Then he pointed to his guitar case and sleeping bag resting against the wall of the new Trader Joe's on Vine near Sunset.

"I didn't say you could touch me." I replied to him.

I don't know that at that point he had realized what he had done, or if no one had ever responded to his drunken touch in that way. He stopped following me.

This last one that I am going to relate is a story I have been repeating a lot these days.

I was walking the last half a block home one day, listening to my ipod, lost in thought when suddenly I feel someone grab a giant handful of my ass. A stranger, he continued on route on his bicycle, never stopping, never having to adjust his center of gravity, just kept going like nothing had happened. I stood there aghast. I wasn't sure whether to be angry or impressed. That must have taken a lot of practice.

In the end I told him to Fuck off, but I don't think he could hear me.