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kudra (4364)

kudra
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Journal of kudra (4364)

Wednesday July 16, 2003
03:20 PM

Life imitates email?

[ #13489 ]
Yesterday, on my way home from work, a man started following me and talking to me. Although I really don't like it when random people start talking to me, I figured I'd be polite since it was only a short walk to the grocery store.

This has happened before (especially where I used to live in Rotterdam, where it happened about once a week), but he was more persistent than most in trying to give me his phone number. Usually if I mention having a boyfriend the conversation tapers off after I establish that I'm not interested in a cheating quickie (yes, they always ask--I wonder who has given the impression that this form of 'seduction' is effective).

So this was a bit familiar, but a bit different, because he hadn't mentioned sex although he had brought up religion. But he didn't seem to be trying to sell me Jesus. He mostly just wanted me to have his phone number, although I said I wouldn't call.

Then he asked if I'd ever been to west Africa. I replied I hadn't, although I was thinking of visiting a friend in Tanzania (east). But, I wondered, why was he asking about west Africa? Why did he want me to go there?

There is a nation in west Africa that has a reputation for trying to encourage foreigners to visit. The people of this country tend to contact you unsolicited. And they are usually quickly intimate, calling you 'friend' before they know your name.

The CAPS and the $$$ were missing, but the entire encounter was already reminiscent of spam. And he was from Nigeria.

My (silent/spam) assassin is on vacation. :(

Side note: I have heard the worst pickup attempts since moving to the Netherlands. The least tempting offer was probably when I was having lunch in a park next to my work and a man offered me money (no, he didn't say how much and I didn't ask). Fortunately this sort of thing doesn't happen often--this is the first time since I moved from Rotterdam, and the guy in the park was the first time before I moved to Rotterdam. I wonder what kind of hell the women who don't walk around scowling go through.

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