I don’t judge you for not having your own umbrella. I don’t even hesitate when you ask if you can share mine, despite seeing how small it is, and how it really is only meant to shelter one small person from the rain. Me. I don’t complain that I have to raise it really high now, to accommodate your hulk, or that my genuine L. Credi bag is now getting wet. I don’t complain because I’m only doing the Christian thing by sharing. There is love in sharing etc. etc. etc.
However, you stretch my charity by presuming that because I’m sharing my umbrella, then I am open to conversation. Please understand. Do not feel obliged to fill the silence. It may not be companionable, but it is certainly not awkward. I was lost in my thoughts before you came along, I will continue to be lost in my thoughts. Your attempts at conversation are, at best, distractions. At worst, annoying.
“It’s like you’re not in a good mood,” you say after giving me the elevator pitch of your life history. I am glad that you have managed to correctly interpret my monosyllabic answers/utter silence. However, you ruin this by adding, “When can we see again?”
Believe me, I can imagine how hard it is, as a guy, to work up the nerve to strike up conversation with a total stranger. I understand that you want to maximize the returns on this risk for what it’s worth. But after correctly deducing that I amn’t in a friendly mood, why do you now assume that I will give you my number/address/BB pin?
“I only want to be your friend…”
“I just saw you and liked you…”
“You never know when next we’ll see…”
“Can you hear me?…”
Because I really don’t like to be rude, I explain in a firm, I-brook-no-further-argument tone why I will not give you my number/BB pin/address. I ask that you not take it personal, that it is only a principle I live by.
But you don’t listen. You start to croon, ” Baby, please. Come on, don’t be like this.” It is at this point I start to beat you with my umbrella…