�Dude, do you not see me working?�

Music: �The Perfect Drug�, Nine Inch Nails
Mood: annoyed

It�s no real secret that I haven�t been doing any work on my thesis. I chalk this up to my own issues making it really fucking difficult to concentrate (and then retain the information that I�ve just read) and because I�m fucking lazy.

So I�ve made it a habit to get some of my thesis reading done while I�m on the trip. (Which I�ve been doing. Yay!) Since my mind wanders (see: difficulty concentrating), I�ve made it a habit to go down to the hotel�s Starbucks, get myself a tea, and sit reading for a couple of hours. Since today is Saturday (and Starbuck�s closes really fucking early) I took my books and went down to the hotel bar/restaurant. (It was empty as it was mid-afternoon.) I nurse my iced tea (unsweetened), grab a French Onion Soup, and (at the end) a Bailey�s coffee.

So, as I�m drinking my Bailey�s coffee and reading about the mechanics of reading comic books as texts some Random Drunk Guy (RDG) who had previously been sitting across from me at the bar, sits next to me and starts chatting me up. Dude even mentions that he�s noticed me reading and making notes � a clear sign that I�m not interested in making conversation with anyone, let alone you � and you were curious as to what I was working on. Okay. We chat for a second making small talk. (I was, at first, happy for the break. This material, while necessarily for my thesis work, is boring as all shit.) I go back to reading and making notes. And then he starts chatting me up again. A couple of questions. More of an annoyance than anything creepy.

And again. By this point, it�s pretty fucking obvious that he�s interrupting me. So much so that the bar mistress comes up with my bill and says, �We can add to this if you want, but we�re getting busy so I don�t want to keep you waiting if you wanted to leave.� By the time the guy interrupts me for the fourth time � this time asking me what my plans are later that evening � I�m getting pissed. (Mostly because drunk guys who I don�t know very well � or who make me uncomfortable � creep me the fuck out.) I�m like, �Dude, do you not see me working?� (Perhaps I should have been a little bitchier than I was. No, fuck that. I have every right to go down to the bar with my book, read, and not be interrupted by RDGs.)

But, the fuck?

Does it look like I want company? Why in the blue fuck would you come over when you see me working? I�m not looking for a random hook-up. I�m not looking to be chatted up. I�m there to read. Contrary to popular belief, a chick who sits at a bar (alone) with her book is not looking for company. She�s not sad. She�s not pathetic. She�s brought her book there to, and this is a fucking novel concept right here, READ.

The book is not a prop. It�s not a conversation starter. It�s not to get your attention. It�s purely functional.

Maybe I�d have been less pissed if I had been putting out the feelers � smiling, maintaining eye contact, chatting with other people � advertising that I was interested in something other than my ice tea, soup, and the book in front of me. (And, trust me, given my level of uncomfortableness/wariness/paranoia when it comes to (1.) drunk guys and (2.) my safety when I�m travelling alone I�m perfectly aware when I�m being flirty and when I�m not.)