All I wanted to do after a very stressful day today was sit in the hot tub. The hot tub to me is an experience like getting my hair cut or colored, getting a pedicure, or massage–it’s a place I go to relax. I don’t want you to talk to me. I don’t want small talk. No thank you. I want to lay my head back, close my eyes, and sit there alone, in my thoughts–again, alone.
Tonight, after TS and I got to the hotel, I decided I would head down and take a dip. I was chatting on the phone with B until I got too sweaty to safely hold the phone over it’s steamy death trap. About 3 minutes before she and I got off the phone, this guy came and got in the tub, too. Guy is probably my age–a year or two older maybe.
I hang up with B, lay my head back, close my eyes, and drift off into a nice relaxing…. “so, what are you doing in town?”
OH NO YOU DIDN’T! *Rolls her eyes while they’re still closed.* I very obviously jerk my head off the towel to make sure guy knows I’m not into this. I answer politely, and lean my head back.
“Oh, that’s cool. How long have you been in town?”
*thinks, ‘are you KIDDING me?’* answers politely–with eyes still closed.
“Great, where are you from?”
“Oh, NO way! Me too. I live there with my wife.”
*Oh, Great–why don’t you call her?*–I nod.
“What are you doing tonight?”
*catching up on work.
“Oh, I was thinking about going out–me and my buddies usually go drinkin’ or hit up a strip bar.”
*charming, dude. Charming.*
“You’re a pretty good looking girl–do you have a boyfriend?”
*Bitchy look paired with a blunt NO.* Please please please quit talking, guy.
He doesn’t stop. I say, “Well, I’m getting warm, I think I’m heading out.”
He says, “Well, if you get bored later, you should stop by my room or give me a call–I’m in room xyz…”
*gasps* Guy happens to be 3 doors down meaning I have to sprint to my room, find TS, tell him what happened, deadbolt the door and stay there ALL night so he doesn’t realize where I’m at.
Traveling alone can be creepy enough. When you run into Guy in the hot tub, it’s even worse. The thing is–I’m not sure where married guy randomly staying in same hotel as me thinks he has the right to 1: tell me I’m good looking, and 2: invite me to hang out with him 3: bring up strip clubs in a conversation with a perfect stranger. Please, dude. Bleh. Creeped out.