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Normal History Vol. 276: The Art Of David Lester

Every Saturday, we’ll be posting a new illustration by David Lester. The Mecca Normal guitarist is visually documenting people, places and events from his band’s 30-year run, with text by vocalist Jean Smith.

There’s a guy at the gym who talks to me. He’s a newly retired school teacher. I guess he’s in his 60s. I’m 55.

I’m not crazy about having long conversations when I’m in the hot-pool relaxing or when I go to use the water fountain. I’m in my bathing suit for god’s sake. I’m not crazy about standing around in a bikini on the pool deck talking to this guy. I’m not interested in him other than he’s a teacher who plays music. Celtic music. I see him there every now and then. I forget his name.

He came into the store I work in several months ago. That was fine. Whatever. Next thing I know he’s asking me out for coffee on the dating website. I’m not crazy about guys asking me out for coffee through that avenue of communication when I see them around and they don’t ask me in person. I mean, I’d prefer he hadn’t asked me at all, because I’m not interested in going out with him. But suggesting “coffee” in an email from the dating site seems cowardly.

Sometimes he talks to me while I’m working out. I’ll be on the stationary bike and he’ll come up and just start talking. I’m sweating, breathing hard, checking my pulse, maintaining a specific speed and heart rate, etc. Working out. And he just assumes I’m going to enter into a conversation with him. Which, I have done, but it bugs me. Not everyone wants to have a conversation while they’re working out—he doesn’t even vaguely acknowledge this. He’s finished his work-out, so he just comes and talks to me. This is a heightened degree of selfishness and an abject lack of self-awareness. I should tell him I’m busy, but I haven’t done that. I should have, but one doesn’t always want to end up with a negative situation that may then be even more destructive to one’s state of mind. One endures the intrusion and tries to maintain the level of output; not letting someone else ruin what one was doing. Plus, some people just don’t seem like they are going to react very well to being given a hint, and then they’re going to blame one for whatever negative emotions they have. One wants to avoid this.

Anyway, so he asked me out for coffee through the dating site and I spent too long trying to think of what I could say to the guy. I got frustrated with myself and let it slide. I didn’t respond. That was months ago. I don’t actually enjoy rejecting men or having to make some excuse or another. I used to write nice notes back to men, and then I’d get a nasty message saying I was a piece of shit or whatever. So, in recent years, I don’t spend time trying to write a nice rejection. I don’t reply unless I’m interested and I know this bugs some men (and likely women; hell, it has bugged me, but I recognize that it’s totally my problem). It isn’t any fun to write to someone and get nothing back, but “nothing back” is the reply. It is the “no”—deal with it. If you contact someone and they don’t reply and you feel bad, that’s for you to deal with. It doesn’t have anything to do with the person you contacted.

[to be continued]

“Are You Hungry Joe?” from Mecca Normal (Smarten Up!, 1986; re-released by K, 1995) (download):