I’ve always considered myself the creep magnet, drawing anything out of the norm into my magnetic field. The buggered-up child with a prosthetic arm grabbing the tail of my shirt. The town drunk cleaning his glass eye with a yellowish handkerchief while giving me directions. The three-hundred pound welfare mom with an affectionate smile and a business card that says, “Jesus is your savior.” I sometimes wonder why they gravitate toward me or vice-versa. In college I dated a militant gal, president of the NOW Chapter (National Organization of Women) at Oakland University. One time—the last time to be honest—I stopped over to her house unannounced and her mom informed me she was in the backyard. I saw her lying in a chaise lounge sunning herself. As we began to talk, I noticed that two of her toes on each foot were connected but had individual toenails. My eyes couldn’t help looking at them. Over and over. Without offering an explanation, and perhaps a bit irritated, she put on some tennis shoes. I had learned later on that her feet were a less severe result from a drug that her mother once took during pregnancy. I was dating a thalidomide baby.
As the late Jim Morrison would say, “People are strange,” and it’s sure nice to see the tables turned once in a blue moon, especially when I’m one aisle over, listening to a lopsided conversation through the shoe racks. We’re at Norman’s in Bad Axe, Michigan, perusing their irregular clothing and other slightly odd merchandise. They buy truckloads of defective stuff and sell it at discounted prices; seems appropriate, doesn’t it? Anyway, this seventy-year-old man in bib overalls and a Dickie ball cap (that’s how my wife described him) says, “I bet I know where you got that purse.”
My wife looks in the direction of two young children goofing around in the middle of the aisle before she realizes the man is speaking to her. She detects a strong body odor.
“I bet I know where you got that purse,” he repeats now that they’ve made eye contact.
Not knowing how to reply, my wife answers as if it were a knock-knock joke. “Where?”
“Around your shoulder,” he says, his eyes moving downward.
With a nervous smile, my wife clutches her purse closer to her body.
“Are those your kids?” he asks.
Before she can say yes a woman peaks her head around the corner and yells, “Get over here! Now!” The children disappear.
“Are you by yourself?” he continues.
“No,” my wife’s quick to answer, her voice getting a bit louder, “I’m here with my husband.”
“He gave me the creeps,” she said to me afterward.
“Welcome to my world,” I replied.
16 comments:
I can relate completely. I have attracted more than my share of weirdos. We should start a club.
I can relate too, although recently it hasn't been so bad, maybe the red hair is keeping them away, lol.
Excellent, Jim! Loved it -- a creep magnet is one step scarier than a freak magnet, to be sure. Perfect dialogue. Cheers'
Yeah Erik, I agree. You can be freaky without being creepy, and you can be creepy without being freaky. Make sense? I'm sure together-toes (that's what I call her) thought I was creepy for staring at her feet.
Omigosh, I thought it was just me. I have learned never to make eye contact when I get on a bus, or when I'm sitting alone in a restaurant, or whatever. And I don't have the capacity to be rude, so they think my forced politeness is a reason to move forward with their conversation.
Creep magnet, that's me. I'm glad I'm not alone.... :-)
Cheers,
Josie
Funny post.
I am the person in the store who will start conversations with people, I guess I must be a creep too! I just can't help myself, if something needs said or commented on, well, I say it.
From now on I will have to think about that before I become the creep to someone's magnet!
Ellie
People really ARE strange. I lived by UNM in the "student ghetto," and one of my neighbors was Greg, the hermaphrodite. He was very open about his unique gender situation, and he offered some of the creepiest stories I've ever heard. He mentioned that once, as he and a woman were engaging in foreplay, she stopped when she tasted something on his chest. "I was lactating!" he explains. Talk about "creep magnet"--I know how you feel. I enjoyed this post.
Jim, Strange, time to come out of the rain..... Yes, there are creeps, freaks, .... We live in a small world and must survive together!! How's Stormin Normans these days? We usually get there during the summer months. Nice post. --Bro, Ron
A comment from a total stranger...I hope this comment doesn't feel like another "creep" episode. I'm not even sure how I found your blog. I grew up in Roseville; my Uncle Jack lives in Bad Axe; and I've shopped the Norman's in Gaylord. I've also been in education (for 27 years). We,too, have pet turtles (now hybernating). I blog and hope to publish--I even wrote a similar post before the big Michigan game.
Are you creeped out yet? You may enjoy my November/December posts I've been writing about memories of Christmas in the 60's suburbs (Hudsons, etc.). You may also enjoy the first post in May 06
http://patternsofink.blogspot.com/2006_05_01_patternsofink_archive.html
I've add you to my favorites. Don't worry I'm not a creep. =)
As your parents will always tell you, don't talk to strangers. But I guess you just can't help when they want to talk to you.
As your parents will always tell you, don't talk to strangers. But I guess you just can't help when they want to talk to you.
As your parents will always tell you, don't talk to strangers. But I guess you just can't help when they want to talk to you.
As your parents will always tell you, don't talk to strangers. But I guess you just can't help when they want to talk to you.
Oh my goodness, so glad to know I have friends. I swear, the weirdest people come to me and most of the time I try to be nice. My husband just laughs his ass off when the weirdest and ugliest men will strike up a conversation with me!
Too funny...
You know that is too creepy
Jim, I understand all too well. You must do something with the NOW date. That's a detail too good to let go!
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