song against sex


Note: The girl is not an amoeba.

A few weeks ago, I was walking down the hall at my college, eating a banana* and wearing a crown** I’d made a few days before. I swear I was minding my own business. Suddenly this voice behind me shouted, “Excuse me! Stop! You! Miss with the banana!” And since that was clearly me, I looked to see who was hollering at me. It was a guy I’d never seen before; he was talking like a robot and he said he wanted to buy some crowns from me for his little nieces. Okay. Lovely. He then proceeded to invite himself to hang out with me and ask me personal questions like, “So what’s your ideal man?” (!!!) And here was I, trying to figure out how to extricate myself from this situation gone awry while remaining polite and professional.

So when this fellow asked me out (yes–ten minutes after meeting me) and wondered aloud what my romantic fantasies were, I declined and dodged with a simple, “Oh, no, I’m sorry–I’m asexual, but thanks for asking.” He immediately responded with a smirk and a joke about me impregnating myself and splitting in two.

Sir, I have just one thing to say: Poor form. Like that’s going to make me want to go grab a coffee with you? I don’t even like coffee.

*A friend later pointed out that props, ESPECIALLY bananas, always intensify the awkwardness of any pick-up scene. Hadn’t even occurred to me, but oh my, was she ever right!

**Reversible and adjusts to any head size! One side has castles and rainbows and shooting stars; the other is a super iridescent purple. And no, it wasn’t my birthday, and no, I’m not three.