Three Ways to Avoid Giving Him Your Number
I found myself caught in an unexpected moment of struggle commuting home Thursday evening.
With Frank Ocean’s “Sweet Life” blaring through my headphones after a hard day’s work, the following moments were less than fitting for the soundtrack. I heard a slight whisper saying “excuse me” multiple times in a heavy Asian accent.
As a Filipino woman, I automatically recognized that he was of ethnic kin by his voice and skin color. Turns out he noticed the same in me and used that as his opener. “Are you Filipina? I thought so because you caught my eye.”
I mentally sighed, smiled, gave thanks then feigned interest. I dislodged one earbud but kept both eyeballs on my phone, responding where a conversational gap required me to. In the nano-seconds that I did acknowledge his presence (and awkwardly shook his hand), I gave him a quick once-over. He looked like a well-rounded fellow who does what he’s told, the type who likes to rock a fitted and nice kicks only to dress it up for a family meeting post-Sunday service. Verdict: Not my family.
So I took the “compliment” in stride and proceeded to keep it moving. But brother from the homeland was persistent, asking me my hometown, what I was doing, my biography before asking me my name a second time (#fail). Apparently my sudden power strolling and aggressive screen-scrolling was not making the message clear enough. I had a sense where this was going by the third block he accompanied me. Before I could hit the mental panic button or scram, he posed the dreaded question. “Can I have your number?”
Within five seconds of meeting him, I knew that there was no semblance of a future. (We’ll save the reasons for another post). I immediately pulled the “How about you give me yours instead?” but there was no fooling him. He asked, while hovering over me, to text him on the spot as if to make sure my finger pads were pounding the glass. That’s when I came to the scary realization that I don’t know how to be mean to men!
Even when I was in elementary school, my entire class would tease me because the boy who few regarded as Prince Charming would fawn over me. This crush eventually went on for years. Why? Because I never let him know I wasn’t feeling him! Confrontation of romantic sorts was just never my forte.
Fast forward to the present and I now know that this is an ongoing dilemma most chicks still face. In an act of redemption for my weakling ways, I decided to conjure up three fool-proof strategies to assist the ladies in dodging these types of straggling bullets. Fellas, I extend the invitation to read but you can’t be mad at me if a woman consequently pulls one of these triggers on you.