Just because a girl wears purple nail polish, that doesn't mean she's nice.

I may not date, but I that doesn't mean I don't have stalkers.

Alright, so I may throw the word "stalker" around a lot and I admit I do use the term rather loosely. So let's define it. 

Criminology would classify stalking as someone harassing you by phone or email or following you on numerous occasions all of which lasts a duration a minimum of 2 weeks or longer. However, MY definition is less wordy and far more clear stated if you ask me. It goes as follows:

Stalker: one who creeps you out on more than one occasion; one who stands too close for comfort every time you enter the room; one who repeatedly enters your personal space while your face is signifying that you are uncomfortable, or one that repeatedly follows you around trying to strike up a conversation while you're clearing doing your best to avoid them.

Pretty clear, right? I thought so. Now back to my story.

In my life I have had numerous "stalkers". I'm not saying that to sound conceited or to be a jerk, it's just a simple fact. Let's do a tally.

In high school there was Zach (I'm not giving last names, but he wasn't from my school). Clearly someone forgot to inform him that calling a girl at 1am on repeated occasions and parking outside her house in the middle of the night was NOT OKAY. Also, when she says she's not home don't mention her car being in the driveway or that her bedroom light is on.  Because A.) you just gave yourself away and B.) you've never been inside her house to know which room is hers.

Around the same time period there was John. He seemed nice enough and knew my cousin therefore I only found it appropriate to be polite and make small talk when attending my grandpa's church. However, being nice will get him to add you on every social networking site that you are currently partaking in and to message you nonstop about everything going on in his life (regardless of whether you've accepted his friend request or not). And if you don't reply? He'll begin messaging you more, wanting to know why. This is when I must kick myself for not being a jerk early on.

In college there was Tom. Oh yes, wonderful Tom. Tom was a 30 year old partaking in what had to be like his 6th year at community college. I was working in the library as an assistant librarian and Tom found himself needing help during EVERY one of my shifts, asking for me specifically. Yes, he was a little slower than others and I do feel bad for saying so. However, the guy could work a computer and did NOT need my help typing. That became clear when he began sniffing my hair. After that, the game became WHERE CAN I HIDE and TELL HIM I'M NOT HERE! After avoiding him successfully for a few weeks, I stumbled across him in the hallway with nowhere to go. It was there that he informed me that he had followed me to the athlete's apartments and wanted to know what sport I played since I must live there. Thank heavens I didn't play anything, but now I had to tell my friend to move.

There have been a few more noteworthy stalking situations that more than qualify for my definition, but for time sake we'll leave it at these 3. Just note, that the number is currently up to 6 all meeting the standards in more ways than one. (I do believe chills just ran down my back)

Now the purpose of this was not to be an "oh poor me, I keep getting stalked", but rather a tale of "How to avoid the latest suitor".

And so it begins. I like food. More importantly, I like Chinese food. There is a great little Chinese place that is just a few blocks from my house that is very cheap and I find myself going there like once a week. I always go in, grab a take-out box and go on my way. However, life isn't quite that simple. Remember the stalker part? There is a tall, Caucasian (not Chinese, but works at a Chinese restaurant?) brunette who wears glasses and is working EVERY TIME I GO THERE. He is fairly cute, but these days I find myself avoiding him like the plague often refusing to go get food.

The first time I went there alone, he decided after weighing and pricing my food, he would then hold it hostage for conversation. Okay, WHEN is this acceptable? Are you serious? It's like 7:30, I'm STARVING and I just want my freaking egg roll! How many questions must I answer, before I can go home? The guy was digging like a reporter to a politician. I must have answered like 8 questions before he finally handed me my food.
After that, we fell into a routine. I would grab a takeout box and he would follow me down the buffet line asking me about foods I was getting or wasn't getting and asking about my day before finally inviting me to sit with him. My job was easy, I tried to answer his questions with as little detail as possible and do my best not to look into his eyes as his smile seems to make me laugh.
Once after laughing he protested "What's so funny? Am I being funny?" "No." "Oh, do you want me to be? If you stay, I can come up with some jokes." SERIOUSLY?I mean, I must commend his efforts. He really does try. I'm just not buying into it. It's just not me.

Lately, my goal has become to keep him quiet and get in and out without conversation. I just want my food and I'd rather not drive to the other side of town to get it. In a way it's kind of a fun game. I get all stealth and put on my game face.

Today was the ultimate win as far as getting him speechless.
Yes, I am sarcastic.
Yes, it probably does make me a jerk.
No, I don't care.
I have turned him down enough times for him to realize that I don't play nice and if he's smart he'll give up.

Today's conversation goes as follows:
"So what's with the black nail polish?"
"Actually, it's a purplish or burgundy color."
"Oh, that's better."
"Why, what's wrong with black nail polish?"
"I don't know. I just think it's dark and girls who wear black nail polish are kinda mean."
(okay, it's like he's begging for it. Now I have to be mean. It's what I do.)
*I lean into the counter real close and speak softly*
"A piece of advice? Just because a girl wears purple nail polish, that doesn't mean she's nice"
*I put on my sunglasses, pick up my food, and walk out of the restaurant, while he stands speechless*.

MISSION ACCOMPLISHED!!

Seriously, wouldn't you want him to stop talking?