One of the reasons I called this blog Ted's Creepy Van is because a lot of folks automatically assumed I already had one. Over the years, I've been told I look like an ax murderer, a butcher, a rapist, and a serial killer.
No woman has ever called me handsome, sexy or anything like that. Ever. I've always been the scary-looking guy. Last month I was lamenting that with all the whores and sluts in this world, it depresses me how none of them try to hook-up with me. A co-worker said, "Yeah, but Ted--you've killed people."
So I embraced The Van. The Van became part of me and I, it. The Van is that part of us all and in truth, we're already in The Van. The Van is some sort of dark, menacing Tao with odd bits of wisdom mixed with desolate isolation and vulgarity.
But it has moments where it isn't all fun and games.
First, let me say it's supposed to be Spring here in Southern Wisconsin but it's not. Not even close. It's 36F and the wind chill is about 24F. The shit cuts right through you.
I was running errands and I saw a woman walking quickly down the sidewalk. She was beautiful. Great legs, wearing my favorite bits, and it was obvious she was cold.
We made eye contact as I drove by into the gas station, since my car was on fumes, and she avoided making eye contact with me again as she walked by.
Despite the cold weather and her obviously not having enough layers on, she certainly didn't want a ride from me. Her look made that clear. Gentlemanly or not, she would rather have been cold to the bone, than get into a car with me. And judging by how fast she walked past me with her head down as I pumped my gas, it was really obvious she didn't even want to talk to me. The head came back up after she passed the gas station.
There's been a lot of talk about Alpha Male vs. Beta. But I think we need a new category. Both Alpha and Beta males would have asked her if she wanted a lift. The Alpha would have given her a broad smile and made some comment that charmed her into accepting. The Beta would have been so non-aggressive that she might have felt like she was taking advantage of him.
But what about us Creepy Guys? The guys who make women uneasy and afraid?
The ones who, when they walk into the room, make the weaker hug the wall and keep a wary eye out.
The ones who, when people describe them, say things like, "he seems like a nice guy but..." as if there is that thing nobody can put a finger on.
The ones who give off that vibe that lets you know they're looking at you as if you were food. Or they're trying to decide what color of duct tape would look best on your skin.
Women have always been terrified of me. My wife was so terrified to talk to me she was visibly shaking. She had to talk to me because I had to deliver a message to her English teacher. She absolutely did not want to talk to me at all. It was only after our meeting and subsequent e-mail exchanges afterwards that she realized I'm not an axe murderer, serial killer, rapist or any of those other things I keep getting accused of being.
When I get enough money saved up, I'm going to buy myself some shirts in pastel colors. Soft pinks and violet hues, and some Drakkar Noir. It'll take longer for people to worry about what I might do. It'll be my sheep's suit.
It's too late for this to work on many who already know me and about The Van. But life is full of first impressions and those precious seconds can mean a lot.
No woman has ever called me handsome, sexy or anything like that. Ever. I've always been the scary-looking guy. Last month I was lamenting that with all the whores and sluts in this world, it depresses me how none of them try to hook-up with me. A co-worker said, "Yeah, but Ted--you've killed people."
So I embraced The Van. The Van became part of me and I, it. The Van is that part of us all and in truth, we're already in The Van. The Van is some sort of dark, menacing Tao with odd bits of wisdom mixed with desolate isolation and vulgarity.
But it has moments where it isn't all fun and games.
First, let me say it's supposed to be Spring here in Southern Wisconsin but it's not. Not even close. It's 36F and the wind chill is about 24F. The shit cuts right through you.
I was running errands and I saw a woman walking quickly down the sidewalk. She was beautiful. Great legs, wearing my favorite bits, and it was obvious she was cold.
We made eye contact as I drove by into the gas station, since my car was on fumes, and she avoided making eye contact with me again as she walked by.
Despite the cold weather and her obviously not having enough layers on, she certainly didn't want a ride from me. Her look made that clear. Gentlemanly or not, she would rather have been cold to the bone, than get into a car with me. And judging by how fast she walked past me with her head down as I pumped my gas, it was really obvious she didn't even want to talk to me. The head came back up after she passed the gas station.
There's been a lot of talk about Alpha Male vs. Beta. But I think we need a new category. Both Alpha and Beta males would have asked her if she wanted a lift. The Alpha would have given her a broad smile and made some comment that charmed her into accepting. The Beta would have been so non-aggressive that she might have felt like she was taking advantage of him.
But what about us Creepy Guys? The guys who make women uneasy and afraid?
The ones who, when they walk into the room, make the weaker hug the wall and keep a wary eye out.
The ones who, when people describe them, say things like, "he seems like a nice guy but..." as if there is that thing nobody can put a finger on.
The ones who give off that vibe that lets you know they're looking at you as if you were food. Or they're trying to decide what color of duct tape would look best on your skin.
Women have always been terrified of me. My wife was so terrified to talk to me she was visibly shaking. She had to talk to me because I had to deliver a message to her English teacher. She absolutely did not want to talk to me at all. It was only after our meeting and subsequent e-mail exchanges afterwards that she realized I'm not an axe murderer, serial killer, rapist or any of those other things I keep getting accused of being.
When I get enough money saved up, I'm going to buy myself some shirts in pastel colors. Soft pinks and violet hues, and some Drakkar Noir. It'll take longer for people to worry about what I might do. It'll be my sheep's suit.
It's too late for this to work on many who already know me and about The Van. But life is full of first impressions and those precious seconds can mean a lot.
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