The Ol' Irish Brow

I thought being honest would deter the subway stalker. I thought he would no longer harass me on the subway and while waiting. Why do I allow myself to have such delusions of grandeur?

I was waiting for the train on the way home from school today, I left around 5, which is prime "subway stalker" time. But since I hadn't had any run-ins since the last interaction, I did not really think about it. I saw him before he saw me, but I didn't have time to get my book out or my headphones on, or anything really to look busy. He spotted me of course, and here's the weird thing... he must of had a friend waiting for the train across the platform because he shouted something across to him and looked over at me, back at his friend, and then made some sort of gesture I was trying not to see. I rolled my eyes, and backed up, hoping he wouldn't come over. No such luck. He comes over to me and says, and I quote, "why do you look like a librarian today?" I replied with something along the lines of, um.. because that's what I am... or something very witty like that. He goes on, not only do I look like a librarian, but I should have been wearing my glasses today, because I look hot in my glasses (I some how managed to pull off the librarian look without my librarian glasses, I guess somethings ARE meant to be). And when I replied that I didn't think so, he told me that I was a "hot commodity" and he touched my shoulder. I pulled back and told him I was most certainly not a hot commodity.

You would think that when someone pulls away from you when you touch them, they would stop trying to touch you... But somethings I guess are not that obvious to others. He kept poking me, in a flirty way, and I was really uncomfortable. He goes on to tell me that I look Irish today too. An Irish librarian. Yes! So when I said, well most people usually think I'm Irish because of the hair and the complexion, and he was like no, it's the eyebrows. What? I have Irish eyebrows? What ARE Irish eyebrows? He said that my glasses usually cover them, so he never noticed them before. I can't imagine why not, I mean, Irish eyebrows are the FIRST thing I notice on someone.

Things had reached that awkward moment where I just wanted him to leave, and to stop touching me, when finally the train is approaching the station. He asks (which surprised me) if I wanted him to ride in the subway car with me, or if I wanted him to leave me alone. To which I replied, Well, I have my book, so I think I'll be fine. And so he said goodbye, and says, Alright bye.... um... Erin? And I raise one of my (Irish) brows, and say with a smirk, Erica. And promptly turn away.

And so the saga continues of the subway stalker and the non-Irish lass on the C train in Brooklyn.