Friday evening roundup and another creepy RM incident

Paul Collier needs to stick to issues he understands--there are so many mistaken assumptions in what he wrote. Of all of these, Raj Patel's is the most comprehensive and on-point. The next one's good, too.

Ah, another we're-not-your-grandmother's-Jews trend story. By the way, yesterday's Daily Show interview annoyed me for many reasons.

I love Candorville.

With so many people who don't want to talk to their seatmates, who are these aggressive, pushy people that don't get it? I really recommend headphones--big ones.

Speaking of aggressive people, a timeshare telemarketer actually called my work number and wouldn't let me get off the phone politely-- I practically had to hang up on her as she continued to interrupt me with promises to save me money. I provide Hilton with my work number because I make a reservation for a business trip, and they dare Hilton's call me at work and harass me?

And speaking of people who don't get it, RM scared the crap out of me just now. It doesn't bother me that he's here when he's supposed to be on his way out of town. All I'm doing is watching "TV" in my office-- it's not like I had any big plans for the house-- but it's a very, very bad idea to not call me, after telling me this morning that he would be leaving straight from the office, and then come in and set off the alarm. What am I supposed to think when I hear the alarm go off? Of course, within seconds I saw him, as he turned it off, but it was not a happy few seconds, and it could have been worse.

***
He went upstairs, came down just as I was about to go upstairs. Stands in the stairs, asks me about my day. He'd mentioned, after coming in, that he was probably messing with my plans to have the house to myself, and so on. I replied that my only plans were to watch netflix, in my office, so his presence would not affect my evening at all. Were he any less boundaryless, I might have made a joke about having planned to hang out naked in the living room and make coffee, but I certainly did not want to go there. He continues to talk to me--and block my way--for a few more minutes, but I manage to escape, believing, naively, that I once again have my evening to myself.

But wait. It gets creepier.

A few minutes later--just as I was blogging the above--he knocks on the door to my office. I say, "yes?" Note that I did not say, "come in." Nonetheless, he comes in, past the door, and sits down on the floor right in front of me (I'm sitting on a futon). I'm already uncomfortable; after all, I don't recall having invited him into my space, nor given him an opportunity to talk to me for any prolonged period of time. He asked whether I'd already started watching my movie; I said, 'not yet but I'm about to.'

Before I go on, let me reiterate: this is not the living room or another common space in the house. This is my office. This is where I retreat when, among other things, I want to be alone and certainly do not want to engage with RM in any way. And my door was closed--is that not a sign that I don't exactly want company?

But it gets even creepier: he says, "I want to show you a yoga relaxation technique" as he proceeds to put my foot in his hands.

I firmly say, "NO, NO, NO, NO. I don't need to learn a yoga relaxation technique."

He looks hurt, surprised. I continue to look directly at him, unamused, as he slowly realizes that it's time for him to leave the room. He goes downstairs, probably mopes, maybe cries. I think I heard some whimpering or at least sniffling as he just came back upstairs.

I don't understand how he can be so clueless. It's just like what they said in the article about the talkative seatmates: they just want to talk, and it doesn't occur to them to consider whether the person they require to make that happen shares their interest in conversation. Sure, I don't have formal plans for the evening, but I am in my own space and I'm entitled to a quiet evening to myself. How, how, how, after we've had this conversation so many times, can it not occur to him that my idea of a quality evening at home does not involve him?

I guess it would be creepier if he were actively making a point of flouting my boundaries; as it is, he's just not capable of understanding the concept of boundaries, hence the constant state of amazement he experiences every time I reinforce them, hence the failure to learn from and adjust accordingly in the aftermath of the previous incidents (and my reaction to them). I just don't understand how a man at his age, his rank, etc. can get to this point in his life without it crossing his mind that the woman in whose house he rents a room might not welcome his walking into her office, much less grabbing her foot. It would have been bad enough had popped his head in and asked whether he could come in, sit down, show me a yoga technique, and touch my foot (and I would have said, "no, thank you")... but bad enough wasn't good enough for him: he had to make it even worse. Who does that? What goes through that kind of person's head?

Dare I say, based on the fact that he actually left my office promptly and later, said goodnight from all the way across the hall (Gracie had come in, leaving the door slightly open), that I think, hope that now he gets it?

***
It's Sunday now. I've not seen RM since Friday, but that won't stop me from rambling about what happened. Or rambling in general.

I found myself thinking, yesterday, that whoever thought up the myth of Sisyphus didn’t do his or her own yardwork; otherwise, there’d be no stone to speak of—just an constant supply of leaves. It’s not as dramatic, but much more realistic. Of course, the hole in that would be that yardwork’s kind of fun, especially in nice weather. Yesterday, I enjoyed raking. Last January, I enjoyed coming back into the house and thawing my hands and feet.

I also found myself thinking, ‘you’d never know, from how much yardwork I do, that there’s a man living in my house who likes to pretend to be useful.’ I want to be very careful, about this, though: I don’t want or expect him to do the yardwork, and I in no way resent him for not doing it. What I resent him for is not factoring in the fact that I have done it, when he decides it’s playtime and he wants company. It’s a fine distinction, but I (usually) have no problem with the fact that RM never empties the dishwasher, rakes or scoops out the litter box. In fact, I’d be horrified if he did scoop out the litter box—that’s my job. What I have a problem with is that, by virtue of having done all that—and on Friday, I’d raked, scooped, and cleaned some—I’m in even less of a mood than usual to be social. But the guy’s got blinders on—if he’s not here for it, it doesn’t happen. Actually, I’m giving him too much credit—he’s harassed me for company even after seeing me spend the better part of the weekend on chores.

Of course, this whole cluelessness thing is a minor detail in the major inappropriateness of the other night, but it’s the most fascinating to me. The rest is just kind of who he is. I told a friend about it last night in all its unbelievable detail. I told her about how the minute he walked into my office, the look on my face conveyed, “what are you doing? What’s going on? I didn’t invite you in?” I told her that any person with a modicum of self-awareness would have read the myriad signals I was emitting before allowing the situation to get to the point where I responded as firmly as I did. My friend, who has met RM, was duly horrified by the incident, but echoed my assessment: he meant no harm; he just has no idea that that kind of behavior is completely inappropriate, just like he had no concept that the pearl earrings were inappropriate. There are more parallels between the two situations: he probably had a similar delusion going on—he was thinking what a great gift he would give me, how surprised, delighted I would be. And that’s the part I find fascinating: nowhere in his world, in which he is ever-generous and helpful, does it occur to him that those on the other end of his “generosity” may not want what he’s giving; that it’s not the thought that counts; that if your goal is to give a genuinely well-received gift, you have to have the other person’s needs and wants in mind. And it would enter the imagination of anyone with half a brain—much less anyone who has lived with me for six months—that my wants and needs on a Friday night, after a long day and a long week, would entail RM barging into my office to teach me a “relaxing yoga technique.” Ewwww.