He just fucking stands there and stares at me with that stupid fucking grin. His hand reaches feebly for the door knob to leave the office but it just hovers there, noncommittal. Our conversation, if you can call him asking if he can borrow my stapler and me telling him “fuck no” a conversation, is over. We have nothing else to talk about. There is nothing else to say. I have plainly shown no interest in small talk. There is no water cooler present. But yet he just stands there, staring and grinning. “Uncomfortable” turned up to 11.
He can’t fucking do it. He can’t just say “okay” and turn around and leave. He can’t because he literally does not know how. The part of his brain that interprets social cues never developed past the size of a tic-tac, and he is desperately looking at me to command the situation, to feed him an actual verbal cue so he knows if our interaction is over and if he should leave the room. Because he honestly does not fucking know.
I sigh, “Dude, leave. Just leave.”
“Heh, okay! Later, Rick!” he yelps as he leisurely grabs the knob and walks out, his head never turning, his eyes never leaving mine, as if he still is not sure if he is supposed to leave or if he should say something else or…I don’t even fucking know. I don’t know how the fuck the guy’s head works. I just know when this man walks into a room, he grinds the entire social gear-works to a halt. His name is Kyle. He is a socially awkward idiot. And he is a fucking douche bag.
We all have these people in our lives. These social idiots who were apparently raised in a dark cave, isolated from all other forms of human life, with no media access except a 1940’s radio playing talky-shows. Fuck, I bet those Romanians who grew up in those wretched orphanages we all saw news clips of, isolated in single cribs until they’re 5 with virtually no human contact, to the point that they just hug themselves for hours so they feel loved….I bet even THEY ARE CAPABLE OF SIMPLY ASKING FOR A FUCKING STAPLER AND THEN LEAVING ON THEIR OWN!
The incredibly simple procedure of walking up to someone and starting a conversation is like goddamn calculus to them…and they must SUCK at math. The have no instinct for conversational patterns. No ebb and flow. No sense of privacy or personal space or intrusion. They are incapable of matching the tone of a group conversation, the pace, the timing. They have NO idea what the fuck everyone is talking about. None. It’s like they don’t own a computer, a TV, a radio, newsprint of any kind, nothing. All they seem to own is ONE issue of Popular Mechanics from April, 1989 and they constantly try to start or STEER every conversation they barge in on into a discussion about one of its stupid, shitty articles.
“No, Kyle, we had no idea that the front suspension on the first lunar rover was designed for- KYLE, FUCK!….we are trying to link Kevin Smith’s decline in movie quality to his rising obesity. Shut up.”
And they absolutely cannot grasp the primitively simple expressions that others make WHEN THEY DON’T WANT THEM AROUND.
If you smile at them while passing in the hall, it’s like you just shot a haymaker to their cerebral cortex. They are baffled. You smiled at them, you MUST want to start an in-depth conversation about something and they have no idea what…but DAMMIT, THEY ARE GONNA TRY (lunar rover?)! And then they assume that this is ALWAYS the “cue” for conversation on your part…so every fucking time you pass them in the hall they fucking stare at you like a zombie going for their first kill…just waiting for the slightest grimace on your end, even just a sideways glance, and then it’s off to the awkward races! Which forces you to act is if their eyes are projecting “2 Girls, 1 Cup” and just avoid any peripheral contact whatsoever (which makes YOU look and feel awkward so FUCK THEM for that too).
Goddammit, Kyle. Fuck you. Now you got me all pissed off again.
I don’t want an explanation. I don’t care why they are like this. What I want is a simple way to repel them. It has to be effective and legal (often an oxymoron).
My idea: complete, horrific, graphic, overload:
“Hey, Kyle. Glad you could barge into our conversation here. Quick! Would you rather strangle a newborn puppy with his mother’s own intestines or a leather strap? Now Bill here says go for the leather….but I use leather strap to flog myself nightly in front of the mirror in the name of the all mighty Darthu, Lord of the Billy Goats…..so I’d go for the intestines. Have you ever seen a horse get an erection?”
Fuck it, he’d still somehow twist that back to the goddamn lunar rover again….
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