Girls Are Aggressive Part 2: They're Not Afraid To Approach You

I worked late a few weeks ago and left the office around 10pm. After taking the subway to my stop, I was cruising towards my apartment at a really brisk pace. I always like walking through crowds with my iPod blasting. I'm good at navigating the masses. I dodge old people and squirt through groups of slower walkers like a slow-mo Barry Sanders - with my own soundtrack. I'm sort of psycho about it (surprise). Nobody around me knows that I'm always racing them to wherever I'm going. Well, Staci knows, as she is constantly forced to deal with my compulsive galloping on San Francisco sidewalks; "Slow DOWN idiot!" Anyway, T.I. was rocking the fuck out of my ear drums and I must have been damn near jogging down Huangpi Nan Lu when I caught a glimpse of somebody gaining on my in the corner of my eye. The road is well-lit and always populated, so I didn't immediately fear for my life or anything, but I could tell somebody was keeping pace with me, and it weirded me out.

My breath got shallow when I could tell she was shouting at me from behind. I assumed I was about to be in trouble for something. Not knowing whether or not to stop or actually start running (haha), I turned around just as she was tapping me on the shoulder. She was a little out of breath, and I could now tell that she had been jogging to catch me. I stopped in front of Ark, pulled out my earbuds and glanced around for signs that I was about to be kidnapped, but she just smiled unabashedly back at me and said "Hello?" I tried to be nice, but I undoubtedly looked confused, because she quickly stammered in barely-understandable English that her teacher told her to stop me. I looked around again. No teacher. She then motioned in the direction I was going, and I gathered that she wanted to walk with me. I tried to remain polite, but I was immediately suspicious that I was being tricked.

Friends at work have told me that they've been approached by women that appear interested in you, and suggest sitting down for coffee or tea. However, the ladies are paid a commission by the establishment they bring you to, which is why they tend to have very specific tastes for local coffeehouses.

As we walked towards my apartment, she told me her name was Vicky, and that she had been attending English classes for the last several weeks nearby. She said that her teacher encouraged the students to converse with English-speakers they saw in the city as a means of improving her conversational skills. She told me she worked as a waitress at an Australian restaurant nearby, but was learning English as a means to a job as a businesswoman. By the end of our conversation, I was convinced that she really just wanted to talk with me in my language, but it still struck me as rather bold. No matter her intentions, I can't imagine being approached by somebody in that manner even in cities as 'friendly' as Seattle or San Francisco.

After we parted, I realized that the English class she claimed to have just left was across the street from my office. I entered my apartment with the uneasy feeling that she may have quietly followed me for several miles on foot, through the subway, and up to the driveway of my apartment. Point: Vicky.