Hair by Tigi....
Sunday, March 26, 2006
Friday morning...Waterloo station...me, half asleep, standing on the escalator and putting my scarf on, preparing for the chill of further transit to Wimbledon.
Him, behind me on the escalator. Suddenly I feel someone touching my hair, lovingly, slowly, intimately... I turn around, more astounded than anything else. The guy, immaculately dressed in a suit, slightly suave, arrogant disposition...and he says:
"I am sorry, but when you put your scarf on and flicked your hair from underneath, I just felt I had to touch your hair. It smells like bubblegum."
What does one say to that?
"Well, this might be so, but you can't go touching people's hair."
And I walk away in a huff.
Then, on the journey to Wimbledon, I recounted how many times I encountered utter maniacs, weirdoes and psychotic beings.
There was that guy, way back that exposed his willy to me and my friend on a full tube. I found it funny, when I noticed that is, as he was really demure about it and she was a bit traumatised.
Then the guy that grabbed my arse as he was walking by without even turning around after me. Good technique, makes you think if you imagined it, in the end you persuade yourself you are deluded, lack of sex and all that...
The guy that sat next to me on the nearly empty tube carriage and decided to kiss me out of the blue, then proceeded to follow me when I ran out of the tube, until I involved a guard.
That nice chap that sat next to me on Piccadilly line and rummaged in his pocket so long (this would obviously rub against me since we were densely packed) that I eventually became suspicious after 5 minutes and challenged him with few F words.
He just got up and scampered, upon which the guy sat opposite us says to me: " I saw him pull this shit..." Yeah, well...thanks for alerting me.
To prove how London is a small place, the same guys does it again on the same line 3 years later. I recognise him immediately and say: " Hello again!" He gets it at once and leaves. You would think that he'd try to alternate tube lines at least.
Let's think about it...the guy that was licking his own blood and called me a dirty slag for offering a tissue...the fat, drunk sod that thought it is perfectly normal to put his hand in the rip in my jeans to appreciate my tanned skin (it was 1992 and we won't mention ripped jeans again...).
The guy that randomly asked me if he could hold my hand while he waits for a train...
I am not sure if I should include in this list my local shopkeeper, who is a friendly guy and is persistent in asking me for my phone number so he can take me out for a 'nice lunch'.
When I was seeing someone, he challenged me one day about seeing a man with me frequently and when I confirmed it, he turned to some 16 year old kid waiting behind me and said;" She breaks my heart, I'm so in love with her."
The kid pissed himself, told all his mates waiting outside and when I encounter them hanging about the station, they cackle and point at me.
Did I mention the guy in love with me is near 60?
I am thinking maybe I project some madness to attract this sort of crap. This is all not even mentioning friendly weirdoes, such as a guy on a bus that got involved in my conversation with Oli, then proceeded to tell me what a wonderful city Prague is after I told him I'm from Croatia...never mind, all Eastern Europe I guess.
The guy that approached me at 1am, when I was returning from a night out and told me he'd like to give me his phone number, which he tore out of a small pad, each page had his number written on it in pencil.
I never rang him. He was maybe pushing 70.
The guy that (and this is just my guess...) thought I was a call girl and asked me to join him in his BMW. I was dressed in jeans and Doc Martens shoes with steel caps, not at all what your regular prostitute wears, unless he sensed I could beat the crap out of him for a fee...
I am not even going to mention my popularity with Turkish men. It brings awkward memories to mind.
If anyone should want to attract the hair fiend...bubblegum sensational product is not cheap at 13.99, but it is obviously a good investment.
Him, behind me on the escalator. Suddenly I feel someone touching my hair, lovingly, slowly, intimately... I turn around, more astounded than anything else. The guy, immaculately dressed in a suit, slightly suave, arrogant disposition...and he says:
"I am sorry, but when you put your scarf on and flicked your hair from underneath, I just felt I had to touch your hair. It smells like bubblegum."
What does one say to that?
"Well, this might be so, but you can't go touching people's hair."
And I walk away in a huff.
Then, on the journey to Wimbledon, I recounted how many times I encountered utter maniacs, weirdoes and psychotic beings.
There was that guy, way back that exposed his willy to me and my friend on a full tube. I found it funny, when I noticed that is, as he was really demure about it and she was a bit traumatised.
Then the guy that grabbed my arse as he was walking by without even turning around after me. Good technique, makes you think if you imagined it, in the end you persuade yourself you are deluded, lack of sex and all that...
The guy that sat next to me on the nearly empty tube carriage and decided to kiss me out of the blue, then proceeded to follow me when I ran out of the tube, until I involved a guard.
That nice chap that sat next to me on Piccadilly line and rummaged in his pocket so long (this would obviously rub against me since we were densely packed) that I eventually became suspicious after 5 minutes and challenged him with few F words.
He just got up and scampered, upon which the guy sat opposite us says to me: " I saw him pull this shit..." Yeah, well...thanks for alerting me.
To prove how London is a small place, the same guys does it again on the same line 3 years later. I recognise him immediately and say: " Hello again!" He gets it at once and leaves. You would think that he'd try to alternate tube lines at least.
Let's think about it...the guy that was licking his own blood and called me a dirty slag for offering a tissue...the fat, drunk sod that thought it is perfectly normal to put his hand in the rip in my jeans to appreciate my tanned skin (it was 1992 and we won't mention ripped jeans again...).
The guy that randomly asked me if he could hold my hand while he waits for a train...
I am not sure if I should include in this list my local shopkeeper, who is a friendly guy and is persistent in asking me for my phone number so he can take me out for a 'nice lunch'.
When I was seeing someone, he challenged me one day about seeing a man with me frequently and when I confirmed it, he turned to some 16 year old kid waiting behind me and said;" She breaks my heart, I'm so in love with her."
The kid pissed himself, told all his mates waiting outside and when I encounter them hanging about the station, they cackle and point at me.
Did I mention the guy in love with me is near 60?
I am thinking maybe I project some madness to attract this sort of crap. This is all not even mentioning friendly weirdoes, such as a guy on a bus that got involved in my conversation with Oli, then proceeded to tell me what a wonderful city Prague is after I told him I'm from Croatia...never mind, all Eastern Europe I guess.
The guy that approached me at 1am, when I was returning from a night out and told me he'd like to give me his phone number, which he tore out of a small pad, each page had his number written on it in pencil.
I never rang him. He was maybe pushing 70.
The guy that (and this is just my guess...) thought I was a call girl and asked me to join him in his BMW. I was dressed in jeans and Doc Martens shoes with steel caps, not at all what your regular prostitute wears, unless he sensed I could beat the crap out of him for a fee...
I am not even going to mention my popularity with Turkish men. It brings awkward memories to mind.
If anyone should want to attract the hair fiend...bubblegum sensational product is not cheap at 13.99, but it is obviously a good investment.
posted by Martina Dove at 12:21 am
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