Do You Come Here Often?

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I was at the laundromat on the north side of town.

I had actually finished doing my laundry. All of my clothes were clean, dry, folded, and back in the van. However, I had internet access at the laundromat, and I was waiting to see how an auction on Ebay would turn out. I was toggling between checking the status of the auction and playing solitaire.

A man I’d never seen before came into the laundromat. He was tall and a little chunky and had dark hair. He looked like a white guy to me. I didn’t find him particularly attractive. I wasn’t paying that much attention to him at first, although he was putting clothes into the washer nearest to where I was sitting. Then I noticed he was clearing his throat loudly and repeatedly. Either he had a nervous tic or something was stuck way down in his throat.

Once his clothes were in the washer, he walked toward me. He asked if I were bored a lot. I don’t know if he saw I was playing solitaire and assumed I was bored or if that was just his opening line. I said, “Oh no!” Then I told him just how busy I am, how I never have time to get bored. At that moment, my good-Southern-lady upbringing kicked in, and I asked, “How about you?”

Why did I do that? I did not care if he was often bored. I was not interested in conversing with him. I wanted to be on my way in six minutes, as soon as I knew the outcome of my auction. Yet, I engaged him in conversation. I guess that makes it my fault.

He told me that yes, indeed he was bored a lot. He said he’d just moved to town and didn’t have (m)any friends, so he often didn’t have anything to do.

Next he gestured at the empty chair next to me and asked if he could sit there. It was not the only empty chair in the laundromat, but since I am not the Queen of Chairs, what could I say? It was not my chair to withhold, so I said yes.

He sat down next to me and I SWEAR TO GOD (or any other deity of your choice), he said to me, “Do you come here often?”

I have to give him credit for using a pick up line that no one else had ever used on me.

My brain was on duty that day, because I shot right back to him, “Only when my clothes are dirty.”

It was one of my finest moments. It was one of my best comebacks ever. I was so proud of myself.

He was not deterred, however, because in mere moments he asked for my phone number, asked if he could call me some time.

Again, I was thinking quick because I said, “Um, no. I’m just not looking for any of that.”

By that time the auction had ended, and my computer was shutting down. I snapped my laptop shut, and ducked out the door, hoping he wouldn’t see what vehicle I hopped into as I made my escape.

About Blaize Sun

My name is Blaize Sun. Maybe that's the name my family gave me; maybe it's not. In any case, that's the name I'm using here and now. I've been a rubber tramp for nearly a decade.I like to see places I've never seen before, and I like to visit the places I love again and again. For most of my years on the road, my primary residence was my van. For almost half of the time I was a van dweller, I was going it alone. Now my (male) partner and I (a woman) have a travel trailer we can pull with our truck. We have a little piece of property, and when we're not traveling, we park our little camper there. I was a work camper in a remote National Forest recreation area on a mountain for four seasons. I was a camp host and parking lot attendant for two seasons and wrote a book about my experiences called Confessions of a Work Camper: Tales from the Woods. During the last two seasons as a work camper on that mountain, I was a clerk in a campground store. I'm also a house and pet sitter, and I pick up odd jobs when I can. I'm primarily a writer, but I also create beautiful little collages; hand make hemp jewelry and warm, colorful winter hats; and use my creative and artistic skills to decorate my life and brighten the lives of others. My goal (for my writing and my life) is to be real. I don't like fake, and I don't want to share fake. I want to share my authentic thoughts and feelings. I want to give others space and permission to share their authentic selves. Sometimes I think the best way to support others is to leave them alone and allow them to be. I am more than just a rubber tramp artist. I'm fat. I'm funny. I'm flawed. I try to be kind. I'm often grouchy. I am awed by the stars in the dark desert night. I hope my writing moves people. If my writing makes someone laugh or cry or feel angry or happy or troubled or comforted, I have done my job. If my writing makes someone think and question and try a little harder, I've done my job. If my writing opens a door for someone, changes a life, I have done my job well. I hope you enjoy my blog posts, my word and pictures, the work I've done to express myself in a way others will understand. I hope you appreciate the time and energy I put into each post. I hope you will click the like button each time you like what you have read. I hope you will share posts with the people in your life. I hope you'll leave a comment and share your authentic self with me and this blog's other readers. Thank you for reading.  A writer without readers is very sad indeed.

3 Responses »

  1. You aren’t in Florida are you? Laundromats are where LooRead picks up women! Seriously though, ewww. Sucks having your space violated by creepiness.

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