A few years back, a woman enquired about motorcycle ownership. However, the conversation she led me into had less to do with two-wheeled transportation and more to do with graphically confusing sexual innuendoes and painting a nightmarish portrait of her reproductive system. I remember it being an unexpectedly rainy spring day and she had been directed to me after asking a coworker of mine who owned the motorcycle in the parking lot. I was intently nervous and had assumed that some catastrophe had befallen it. Happily, that wasn’t the case, she just wanted my opinion on purchasing a small motorcycle, or scooter, and how it would change her life.
For the first five minutes, everything was fine. She seemed eccentric but normal enough. She could have even been considered attractive if she had taken better care of herself. Her hair was frizzy and her old sweatshirt had enough stains on it to be featured in a detergent commercial, but I assumed she was just an exceptional example of environmental responsibility. Then again, I suppose there are a lot of euphemisms for “filthy” going around these days. It turned out that she was just crazy and this became painfully apparent as she was taking notes. Instead of writing down any information or advice she would pick a word, at random, and then scribble it down and circle it. Then she would talk about how great that word sounds.
At one point I said, “Well, you’d want to be delicate with the throttle and clutch but you’ll get the hang of it eventually.”
This caused her to fixate on the word delicate. She wrote it down seven times, underlined it, asked me what it meant, told me she liked the sound of it and then promised me she’d start using it more often. It was, at this moment, that I realized that something was a little more than off. She started telling me her story and that she believed, if she could get a small motorcycle, it would somehow lead to her regaining custody of her two children. I was absolutely trapped. I was trapped in this conversation and I knew that I was going to have to endure a more crestfallen brand of bizarre than I normally seek out. She had fallen upon hard times and I was privy to the entire story. I tried to steer the conversation back toward the topic of motorcycles and told her that I didn’t bring rain-gear with me and, as a result, my pants were soaked to a point that it was making the seat wet. This backfired so, so badly. Her response was, “I know how that goes, I’m always worried about it. Things really haven’t been the same down there since I had my children.” She then compared her vagina to a car that needed a tuneup and winked.
My brain refused to identify anything she said after that. I’m fully aware that she spent the next three minutes giving me qualitative and quantitative data on her sexual habits, menstrual-cycles, bladder issues and ways to cope with them, but it all fell upon predominantly deaf ears. She eventually stopped to apologize for being so graphic and claimed that I was someone she felt comfortable talking to. She said, “You seem very smart and like you wouldn’t judge me. Sometimes I say things that are inappropriate and do things that not everyone thinks are a good idea.” and then slowly began hitting on me. At least, I think she was hitting on me. She touched my arm a few times, told me that I was handsome and proposed that we should go somewhere private while also continuing to go off on tangents about every topic imaginable. She was easily distracted and, at one point, began commenting on how good oranges are when she noticed someone eating one nearby.
Admittedly, I do have a tendency to go for more aggressive women. I like it when someone spends a little time flirting and then makes their intentions obvious. However, this tactic loses its effectiveness when it is prefaced by describing one’s uterus like the goriest of Civil War battles. Conjuring up a nightmarish sexual landscape probably isn’t the best icebreaker. Although, I bet it would work for some people (maybe even me, if it’s in the format of a joke) and I still hope she found true love. I guess I hope we all find true love, or something akin to it, and have as much fun in the meantime as possible. But don’t be too quick to seize something, don’t be afraid to let something pass you by and don’t be so eager to let something go. We’ve all made mistakes or missed opportunities because we were scared, selfish, crazy or jaded.
You Monsters Are People. 
C’mon, not even coffee with this woman? You could have gotten at least 3 more stories out of it..
what a sport!
I’m pretty sure I head the best she had to offer.
She sounds like a real class-act.
If you’re referring to the movie with Kid n’ Play, then yes. She was of the same caliber as that film.
In the summer of 2005, I took a train from NYC to Rochester, NY. It was an 8-hour train ride and it was really packed. I grabbed a coveted window seat. Somehow, I managed to attract the male counterpart to the woman in your story to sit next to me.
I had no idea that giving in to some friendly small talk at the outset would open the dam. He did not care that I was engrossed in my book (this was before I had an iPod so I couldn’t tune him out) and proceeded to make conversation with me even when I was blatantly unresponsive. He made it clear he wanted to go out, talked about being a single dad, dating issues, and only alluded to my ignoring him once when he said, “You’re really into that book, huh sister?” He even asked my horoscope so he could look it up on his laptop. I cursed my bad luck. He had had an opportunity to sit across the aisle next to another woman, who was very attractive, but when faced with the decision, he bestowed me with his presence.
It was just my luck that he was going to Buffalo, which was one hour further than where my stop was. He couldn’t have gotten off in Albany, which was only two hours away from New York City. Nope, he was next to me the WHOLE way.
Finally I feigned like I needed a nap and covered myself in a fleece (pink) blanket I had with me. That’s the only time he left me alone to get up, presumably to the dining car. When he came back a couple of hours later and saw that I was awake, he told me I had looked really cute sleeping and said too bad I was asleep or he would have bought me dinner.
Insert your graphic image of head exploding.
You have no idea how grateful I was that he was off drinking in the bar car when it was time for me to get off the train in Rochester. I have no clue what crazy notion he would have had up his sleeve had I been forced to excuse myself and try to step over him as I fled the train.
This is all to say that I can totally relate to how horrifying this conversation was that you had to endure with this woman. Great storytelling, too! There are some people who just lucky enough to attract the crazies.
I’m very glad to be one of the fortunate and chosen.
I liked your story too, but I would have liked to see a graphic of your head bursting. I can never get enough of them for some reason.
I love getting trapped in awkward conversations like this. For some reason, I have this ability to always get weirdos to talk to me at the gas station. I play along, listen to them talk about their custody problems and Alcoholics Anonymous, then drop the boyfriend bomb and watch their faces melt like they just looked at the Arc of the Covenant.
Please start carrying a small video camera with you for those moments.
I have needs.
Bet ya 10 bucks that she is a regular library tech room user…
I bet you a million you’re right because that’s where I was working at the time.
I don’t know how you managed to endure it. :-)
I found you over at Passionate About Pets. She’s a buddy of mine. ;-)
My visit to your blog is part of my blog challenge this week.
I’m sending out a challenge to bloggers in the WordPress Challenge to take part in the RandomBlog2011 Challenge. You can read more about it in my post.
http://whatsbuggingmetoday.wordpress.com/2011/02/13/or-not-randomblog2011-challenge/
Great work, I’m glad to see you taking your homework seriously.
Also, I like your cat profile picture. I’m a fan of four legged friends.
This hurt to read, Posky. Especially when your head exploded. :)
“I was trapped in this conversation and I knew that I was going to have to endure a more crestfallen brand of bizarre than I normally seek out.”
When she said, ““You seem very smart and like you wouldn’t judge me.”
You could have replied, “YOU’RE WRONG! I’m very judgmental. And not all that smart.”
If that didn’t discourage her, you could have said, “Write this down ~ T.M.I.”
Then, while she wrote it down 7 times, and underlined it, you could have snuck away from the Nightmarish Sexual Landscape.
See what happens when you are kind, considerate, non-judgmental and handsome?
It’s a lethal combination.
Nancy, you are a well of positive energy but I’m quite a monster- rest assured of that.
I like nrhatch’s suggestions…..
It seemed sarcastic and probably wouldn’t have worked anyway.
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“If you were me you wouldn’t have been interested.”
You won me forever there.
See, this is a lesson I wish every woman would learn. Don’t bring up childbirth or the aftermath. Nobody wants to hear about that. Nobody. Ever.
I had a similar experience once. It was the summer before my senior year of college. I was working a temp job, just killing time before school started, when Steve–the crazy mail guy at my place of employment–took a shine to me. Every day, when I got to my desk, there would be a picture he’d drawn of himself, paper weighted by one shiny red apple. He’d stop by at lunch to 1) ask what I thought of that day’s sketch, 2) talk about the craziest things possible (like how the #23 holds the key to the universe), 3) sing something from Prince’s Purple Rain album. I didn’t know what else to do but be nice to the guy. Poor Steve. I wonder what happened to him.
i think you really missed your boat by letting him get away…
I agree. He sounds… memorable.
You can’t really blame him for loving you though. Let’s just hope he’s in a good place.
“You seem very smart and like you wouldn’t judge me.”
had you not posted the ugly baby gaffe, we might all still think the same.
Some babies are just ugly and I’m not ashamed to admit it. We’ll all have to learn to deal with it.
I am dying from sore abs without going to the gym. Very funny except that she might be a distant relative. Oh bother.
Nothing like a good set of sore abs- regardless of how you come by them.
..wait, no.
I just wanted to let you know not all motorcycle women are like this. Take me for example. I ride a motorcycle, and I don’t overshare.
Oh, I don’t think she’ll ever ride a motorcycle. In fact, I’m pretty sure she’s not even allowed to drive.
Wow, it’s horrible when people you don’t even really know are so graphic. On the other hand, I don’t like it when men are graphic about their sexual behaviors. I think that happens more than women talking about their nether regions.
Very interesting story, sometimes I get people trusting me because I somehow look interested. All I do is stand there and look them in the eye, and it makes me trustworthy and seemingly interested. Also, people always ask me for directions, because I always look like a local wherever I go. Heh. You just got that kind of look, kid.
This has me cracking up! Sadly I’m a magnet for random strangers with painful life stories and once they start blabbering, I do tend to go deaf too. I would like to show empathy and being a girl I guess it is a biologically/socially mandatory skill but sometimes you just wanna slap these people with a wet fish!
I love this bit,
“Her hair was frizzy and her old sweatshirt had enough stains on it to be featured in a detergent commercial, but I assumed she was just an exceptional example of environmental responsibility. “
With any luck, the lack of feedback, vaguely horrified stares and wrinkled noses will eventually tip her off that maybe she shouldn’t talk to other people. It worked for me.
As your readers have pointed out, the beauty of these situations is that they become hilarious blog material, rendering your audience in fits of sympathetic laughter! And you know you are *SO* not alone in dealing with crazy people.
I enjoy cab rides with chatty taxi drivers but there was this one time I wanted to punch the driver. He started by saying how nice I looked, which was okay. He then went on to tell me how his partner left him after cheating on him, how my next cab ride would be his treat, how he’d love to have a friend my age (he’s twice my age), blah blah blah. Usually I wouldn’t have problems listening to those kind of things, because like I said, I like chatty drivers. But he kept complimenting me and he’d clap whenever he glanced at me. Good thing it was just a short cab ride because if it were any longer than 20 minutes, I would’ve gone bananas.
I don’t want to be morbid but it seems like you might have been lucky not to have been murdered.
Sure, you’re a very attractive woman but “he’d clap whenever he glanced at me” is a bit much. That seems like the sort of thing someone does before they decide they need to skin you and make you into a lampshade.
Stay safe out there.
I had wine spurt out my nose, but that is the only body function I am going to mention. Great story. Made me laugh and I will forever have that image of a crazy woman with too much to share in my brain.
I wouldn’t mind hearing about those other bodily function, provided things remain hilarious.
The whole story is very funny, but your thoughts which you concluded the experience are well put. The message that comes across is strong because of the story that supports it. The comic at the end topped it off. I like what Sister Earth Organics said!
I’m just wondering what it was about you that made her think she could lay her reproductive system out there for your scrutiny! Oh and I do hope the conversation helped her make up her mind…about any wheels she may have been intending to buy…she probably needed them more than the ‘tuneup’.
You look pretty attractive there with your head blowing up into a million pieces…don’t make it a habit ;-)
I make no promises. Sometimes heads just explode… because they have to.