old man hitting on me

anonymous asked:

There's a regular who comes in and always says stuff like "are you a model" and "if I was 40 years younger" like even if u were u would b like 25 and also you would never get with me even at the appropriate age please stop hitting on me yOU ARE AN OLD MAN AND I AM A HIGH SCHOOL STUDENT OH MY GOD

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There was this old man whose in late 60. He was wearing light blue polo shirt, maong pants and topsider and he was having a bouquet of pure red roses. The old man was running towards to the jeep that I am in. When the jeepney driver saw him running he stopped and let the man get in. The old man sat beside me where his roses almost hit my face so what I did is I moved little.

By just seeing his eyes, I can say that he is deeply in love. His glowing like it was his first time seeing the girl he loves.

I gave him a glimpse and unfortunately, he saw me and asked me why.

“Sir? Ganda ng ngiti ha. Para sa number ano mo ba yan?” joke I threw to him.

“Para kay number one lang to. Isa lang sya hahaha.” he answered and gave me sweet laughs.

“Hahahhaa. Loyal. Dadalawin nyo ba sa opisina? Sweet naman sir.”

“Ay wala sa opisina. Nasa sementeryo. Idedate ko.” after hearing his words I was torn apart and felt like that I should’ve not asked him.

“Sorry sir. Pakasaya kayo sa date nyo ni misis” I said and I fake a smile.

Minsan talaga dapat di na ako nag tatanong e.

Girl

I am nine years old. A man hits me with his car while I am riding my bike in the church parking lot. 

I tell no one because I think it is my fault. 

I am eleven years old the first time a man tells me I have nice legs.

I am twelve years old, and I am followed home by three high school boys who catcall me and throw pieces of trash at my back. I am in my Catholic school uniform.

I start leaving school ten minutes early so I won’t be followed home anymore. 

I am thirteen when I decide to stop eating. A teacher comments on how good I look and I stop eating for six years. 

I am fourteen years old when I am administered an IQ test. My school psychiatrist describes me as “precocious.” It is the first time I have ever heard the word precocious. 

Precocious: adj. having developed certain abilities or proclivities at an earlier age than usual; flowering or fruiting earlier than usual. 

I am sixteen years old when I tell my mother I never want to have children. She says “Oh, you will, someday” and it sounds like every boy who told me “relax, it will feel good.” I am followed home by three grown men in a car. When I flip them off, they circle around my block and pull up beside me. One gets out of the car and grabs me by the arm. I break his nose. 

It is the first time I have ever hit a man. It is the only time it ever works. 

I am seventeen years old. A male teacher offers me a ride home. While his car idles in the school parking lot, he puts his hand on my knee. In a strange French city, three friends and I are followed back to our hotel by a man for ten blocks. On my way back from a funeral, I watch as a marine hits on my mother. I start getting treatment for my bulimia. A therapist says I have anxiety. It is the first time I have heard the word “anxiety” used as an illness.

Anxiety: n. a nervous disorder characterized by a state of excessive uneasiness and apprehension, typically with compulsive behavior or panic attacks; desire to do something, typically accompanied by unease.

I am eighteen years old. One of my father’s friends, drunk at a Christmas party, tells me I should be in porn. Everyone laughs because it is so funny. 

The first woman I fall in love with says that she would marry my brother if I had one. The second woman I fall in love with asks if I’ll be her emergency contact while filling out forms in an abortion clinic waiting room. The third woman I fall in love with says she sleeps with men so they’ll like her. 

I am nineteen years old. The first time I am raped.

The first time.

The first time I am raped it is by a man that I love. Over two years, I attempt to leave him over thirty times. I become addicted to painkillers and sleeping pills. I sleep through two summers. I am diagnosed with Bipolar disorder. I attempt to tell my doctor about my depression and my abusive relationship. I am prescribed more pills. The flashbacks don’t begin until six months after I leave him. 

I am twenty-one years old. I am followed home from class. I am followed home from dinner. I am followed home from my friend’s apartment. I take a 45 minute train ride to work every morning at 5:00 AM. I have been followed on my way to work. I read an article about how our culture makes women so accustomed to psychological abuse that they can’t recognize it as it’s happening. 

“Psychological abuse, also referred to as psychological violence,emotional abuse or mental abuse, is a form of abuse characterized by a person subjecting or exposing another to behavior that may result in psychological trauma, including anxiety, chronic depression, or post-traumatic stress disorder.”

Trauma: n. a deeply distressing or disturbing experience.

Every time I leave my apartment, I go to war. But,

this is not the first time. 

akb. 

ikon n exo in the airport waiting room

xiumin: so… i heard you dont get many lines

chanwoo: yea i guess

xiumin: i never use 2 either but ill tell you a secret, cmere

chanwoo:… o… ok…

xiumin: /leans in close/ get fit. get lit, kid

chanwoo: i.. i need 2 go i just heard bobby calling for me ha hAh sor ry

Okay, there should be a movie with a cop in his 40′s that goes undercover in a high school. But not as a teacher. As a student. And the actor that plays him looks nothing like a teen, so they take him to the salon to get ready to go undercover and when he comes back out, they switched actors to a younger man but have the original actor voice over him. 

And then, there is a scene toward the end where the teenage actor has a gun on the bad guy and the bad guy goes “but you’re just a kid” and the actor messes up his hair below the screen shot, looks up and it’s the original actor again. “Think again, punk.” Boom. Blockbuster hit. 

This is a fuck customers story from an actual customer

Okay so in my town theres this new like super mart of walls, and it was like 11:30 pm because for SOME REASON this mart of walls is 24 hours.
Im in the empty parking space next to my car, and walking from the back of my car to the front side passenger to enter. There was this car who is in the parking spot in front of me that is about to leave. I thought that it was safe for me to walk in the parking space in front of theirs. I thought they would do what they are SUPPOSED TO DO and Pull Out Of The Space instead of Driving Forward. And this grown ass man, like OLD CREEPY MAN just pulls through the parking spot and literally almost hits me.
I like this mart of walls. I really do. The staff is nice, the bathrooms are always clean, and I know a lot of the people that work there, and i would hate this guy for a very long time if he had actually hit me and made them go through all this paperwork because i was hit in their parking lot.
Be fucking decent.
Pull out of your parking space ESPECIALLY WHEN SOMEONE IS WALKING IN THE PARKING SPACE IN FRONT OF YOU.

40-ish year old man at work decides to hit on me. I tried politely saying I wasn’t interested. I said I had a significant other. Him: “They don’t have to know” *lololol* I said he wasn’t my type. Him: “Well what’s your type then?” I finally said that I am not sexually attracted to guys, I like women. Him: “Oh shit me too!!!!😉” LIKE CAN YOU JUST GO AWAY I CANT BE RUDE TO YOU CAUSE IM AT WORK GOD DAMN IT.