If you follow me on Twitter, you may read the occasional early morning tweet from me complaining about "Creepy Old Guy". "COG" isn't necessarily that old -- I'd put him younger than the man on the bus we call "Generic middle aged man." But COG ages himself by trying to endear himself with everyone on the bus, without actually picking up that he's coming across as, well, creepy.
I can be not just mid-conversation, not just mid-setence, but mid-word to Scott as we wait for the bus and he will try to engage us. "It's my Monday" he says every second Tuesday (we all breathe a sigh of relief every second Monday, as he is off those days). "Awfully rainy out today" he says when there are 3 drops of moisture in the air. "Wonder when it's going to rain again" he says when the sun is shining. Those days when Scott and I take different buses: "Lost the hubby, did you?"
And it's not just that's he a morning person. On the bus ride home, when all I want to do is decompress, I can guarantee I'll have a tap on the shoulder and he'll say, loud enough for me to hear over my earphones, "How goes the battle?"
If this is a battle, give me a gun!
As I sat down to write yet another post about running, or about fitness, or about how we're eating healthy, I started to feel like maybe I was becoming "COG". Am I trying to force a topic that just won't work?
I know Creepy old guy is divorced, as he is not stingy with the comments about appreciating his "freedom, no longer having that ball and chain". He has a teenage son, but he rarely has custody. On the times his son does stay at his place, he looks weathered, and makes passing remarks of their fights, suggesting they are not close. He talks about his mother's cabin, but never about his mother. I presume she has passed on. He complains that his co-worker quit, and what a hardship it is for him. Creepy Old Guy organizes singles dances. He has signed up at a local tennis club for group lessons.
Creepy Old Guy isn't necessarily the pompous ass that Generic Middle Aged Guy says he is. Creepy Old Guy is desperate for companionship. For validation.
While it doesn't make Creepy Old Guy's habit of interrupting any less rude, his comments on what I deem appropriate work wear any more acceptable, or his fake familiarity with us any less creepy, it does make me understand him a bit better.
I've been feeling lost. It started with chopping off my hair. It still catches me off guard when I see my reflection. Now, I seem to not quite be aware of my body. My clothes feel like they fit drastically different. But I don't see the different. My muscles ache after a workout, and are stiff the next day, but I barely notice any difference in size or tone.
I can't see the value of my work. I keep hoping that if I say it enough, I'll see it. And when that doesn't work, I hope that if I hear people say that they see it, I'll believe them.
We all have our ways that we are like Creepy Old Guy. Whether it's about how we look, how we feel or what we do, when we can't bring ourselves to silence the nagging voice in the back of our head that says we're not strong enough, pretty enough, or have enough friends, and so we try to cancel it out by talking over it.
We're all just seeking the validation we can't find in ourselves.