5 Places I Don't Want To Have A Conversation

The library – I am not a librarian. I’m not a stickler for the “Shhhhh, no talking!” rule. But I don’t go to libraries with the intention of socializing; I go to libraries to check out books I’m too cheap to buy and to spy on people I have crushes on. Apparently I’m still in middle school. I like libraries, but if you try to have a conversation with me in a non-conversation area, this is what it’s going to sound like:

You: Hey! How’s it going? Haven’t seen you in a while!

Me (whispering): …Heeey

You: What are you reading?

Me (whispering): Can we do this over by the circulation desk?

You (whispering): Bitch.

I actively daydream about meeting cute boys at libraries. But I’m just too afraid of being that girl. You know, the one that thinks it’s perfectly fine to discuss weekend plans at a high decibel, completely oblivious of the people reading around her. I hate that girl and it doesn’t matter how cute you are, I don’t want to have a long conversation with you at the library unless it leads to sex in the stacks. Silent sex in the stacks.

The dance floor – So maybe we’re at a club, maybe we’re at a bar. It doesn’t matter; we are dancing. Our hips are swiveling in figure eight motions and we may or may not be looking at each other. Either way, our physical proximity is not an invitation for conversation. If you try to start one on the dance floor, this is all that will come of it:

You: DO YOU COME HERE OFTEN?

Me: SOMETIMES, WHAT ABOUT YOU?

You: SOMETIMES YOU LIKE TO EAT GLUE?

Me: NO, NO. SOMETIMES. AND YOU?

You: HAHAHAHA IT STILL SOUNDS LIKE YOU’RE SAYING ‘GLUE’

Me: Aha

You: WHAT’S YOUR NAME AGAIN?

Me: RUTH

You: GRUEL?

Me: RUTH

You: THAT’S MY GRANDMA’S NAME!

You get my name and a couple choice details but if you want additional information, we’re going to have to take a timeout at the bar or better yet, outside where four other couples aren’t rubbing up on me, where some chick isn’t spilling her vodka cranberry down my leg, and where I don’t have to worry about the state of my eardrums.

The Sprint store – Sorry, it’s not you; it’s me. I’m already in a bad mood because my Sprint service blows and I’m back at the store for the fourth time this month trying to resolve some nonsense issue with the second phone I’ve had this year. If I’m in line waiting for a Sprint employee, I’m too far gone with my anger to have a normal conversation that doesn’t involve complaining. Example:

You: Hey, which of these phones should I get?

Me: Neither. I hate Sprint.

You: Yeah I just dropped my phone the other day and I need to get a replacement.

Me: Yeah, I hate Sprint.

You: Hey, this one’s cool. What do you think?

Me: I HATE SPRINT.

Please don’t try to start a conversation with me unless you have the power to rescind my early termination fee.

The bathroom – There’s this thing where girls go to bathrooms together. It’s a whole event of going to adjust your clothes, refresh your makeup, and complain about your appearance. Throughout this whole ordeal, it’s okay to have a conversation outside the bathroom stalls. But I should not have to carry a conversation through bathroom stalls because this is what it sounds like:

You: Oh god, and then he said he wasn’t going to go, but he didn’t tell Aimee.

Me: peeing

You: peeing

Me: peeing

You: So I thought that was totally messed up!

I don’t know what it’s like for guys. Maybe it’s okay to talk about things when you both have your dicks out, taking a piss. But in my experience? Nobody wants to talk to a soundtrack of pee. NOBODY.

The chair at the Dentist’s office – I love my dentist; she’s a wonderful friend of the family. But I think I speak for the rest of the human population when I say I hate going to the dentist. The idea of sitting with my mouth open for half an hour while someone prods my sensitive gums with sharp metal tools makes every part of me hurt. Add a forced conversation and you’ve got a recipe for first world torture.

Dentist: Oh, so how’s everything going? You’re, what, a journalism major?

Me: …aahhhhhhhh… ahhhhhh. My throat elicits guttural noises that don’t make words. I try instead to shake my head.

Dentist: Ah ah, keep your head still. So, print journalism, huh. That’s pretty bold.

Me: …ahhhhhhhh…

Dentist: Anyway, my son loves Star Wars. We’re going to take him to the 3-D release this weekend. Our favorite is Attack of the Clones.

Me: AHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH–(neverending)