Don’t Ask for My Number While I’m Eating Sushi

I went to a little place called CJ Lunch Box the other day for some cheap sushi. As it is a take out restaurant, I took my food to David Pecaut Square, and sat watching the farmer’s market action while I used my chopsticks. A man sat down beside me while I was eating, and said, “You’re eating sushi.” I turned to him and replied, “Yes, yes I am.” I  turned back to my food, while he proceeded to tell me that he had eaten sushi yesterday, lobster sushi, and how there are lobster burgers now, and had I heard of the McLobster? I said that I had, smiled, and continued to eat with my chopsticks. I thought the conversation was over until he slid closer to me. He asked me what my interests were, “other than sushi.” “Basketball,” I replied reluctantly, “and twentieth-century literature.” He began to tell me about the poetry he wrote — I swear every man I encounter in David Pecaut Square claims to be a poet — while I returned to my salmon teriyaki roll. As my attention drifted elsewhere, he asked if I wanted to go for coffee with him sometime. “No thank you, ” I responded with a polite smile. “You aren’t free next week?” he asked. I explained that I was returned to school in London. “London isn’t that far away!” he said. I explained that I rarely return to Toronto during the school year. He asked if rather than meet me for coffee, he could call me when I returned to London. “You overestimate how charming I am over the phone,” I responded quickly. He continued to ask for my number, until finally I said that I didn’t give out my number to people I didn’t know. “But you have to live,” he said. “I’ve lived enough!” I exclaimed. And with that, I bid him farewell and took off.

it may seem that the immediate moral of this story is that no one should interrupt me when I’m eating sushi. I emphasized that I was eating sushi rather than a sandwich mainly because it is difficult to eat. That he continued to talk to me while I used chopsticks made our conversation border on ridiculous. That’s not to say I can’t eat sushi socially — name the time and the place and I’m there! — it’s just that there is a difference between a sushi date and eating sushi while someone asks you on a date.

So my lunch choice made conversation a little awkward. The pauses created while I manoeuvred chopsticks, those are my fault. The thing is, I didn’t come to David Pecaut Square to make conversation.

A few weeks ago, I wrote a post about awkward eye contact. I said you should try talking to someone if you are interested in them. I still stand by that. For that reason, I commend the man’s initial effort. Certainly, he is not to be blamed for trying to talk to me while I was sitting alone, though I do appreciate the ability to differentiate between alone and lonely. What bothered me about the conversation was that he didn’t stop talking to me even when I made it quite apparent I wanted to be left alone. Even more problematic, he did not let me off the hook after I declined his offer to meet for coffee. That was when I started to feel really uncomfortable.

It seems that many of the men I encounter in the street assume that just because I’m alone means that I am lonely, and that by being out in public alone, I am inviting any man who is interested to join me. As Clara said in her recent post On being approached, it is as though some men assume that a woman must be with a man in order to find fulfillment. For that reason, any time a man approaches me in a public setting where social interaction is not an expectation or a necessity, the approach seems like an attempt to dominant me, especially when the man won’t take no for an answer. Though the conversation did not present an immediate physical threat, as we were in a crowded public area midday, the man’s continued pursuit after I had clearly refused him suggests that he would not accept a no when it comes to more serious issues of consent. Though it is my own fault that I did not end the conversation sooner by simply telling the man I didn’t want to talk to him, I eventually made my disinterest known — perhaps a little too indirectly, but I was trying to maintain a level of politeness common to my interactions with strangers — and yet he still challenged each of my refusals.

Returning to the previously expressed idea of approaching someone you are interested in: my issue is not with an approach itself, but rather in the way an approached is conducted. One should know when an attempt at conversation has failed, and leave it at that. To continue a conversation beyond that point is to deny the agency of the one who has been approached. While this situation could have been avoided if I had said from the start, “I’m on my lunch and would appreciate it if you would leave me to the sushi you seem to have taken so much of an interest in,” it would make me sad to take a position that was so immediately defensive. That is because I have had truly wonderful conversation with strangers, both with males and females. Even more than that, it would suggest that every approach was something of a threat, something requiring an immediate reaction to put a conversation to a decided end. To approach a situation from such a defensive point is to make every conversation about a decisive act of dominance. It introduces a level of fear to each response, which makes a conversation between strangers on equal footing impossible.

Song of the Day: Can’t Hardly Wait by The Replacements