Dear Guy Who Yelled Out of His Car Window This Afternoon,
"Incomprehensible Gibberish" to you, too!
Sincerely,
Hilatron
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Dear Other Guy Who Yelled Out of His Car Window Another Time,
Why, thank you. I'm glad you think I'm a nice person. That's what you meant by "nice," right? Although I can't imagine how you knew that, what with us having never spoken and all, it is heartwarming that you feel there's something about me that just exudes niceness. Of course, you could have been passing judgement on my personal appearance, I suppose. But that seems unlikely. I mean, what kind of buffoon would imagine that I give a fig whether he deems one or more of my physical characteristics "nice" or not? And furthermore, if you're going to rate me, at least try to find a better adjective than that blandest of descriptors, "nice." Jeeze. So that couldn't be what you meant. Thanks for the compliment. I think you're very...outgoing.
All my best,
Hilatron
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Dear Number of Guys Who Have Said "Hey, Red" (and formerly, "Hey, Blondie") to Me,
Um. Very...observant of you.
Cheers,
Hilatron
Cc: Guys Who Say Things Like, "That's a Blue Shirt.*"
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Dear Number of Other Guys Who Have Instructed Me to Smile,
I can only assume that you like to see people scowling for some reason, because there is nothing less likely to make me smile than having someone suddenly leap into my range of vision and demand one, as I am toodling about my day. If I felt like smiling, I already would be. If you're going to interrupt my train of thought with this goal, then at least make the effort to think up a joke or something. You only need one, because believe me, women will not be mentioning you to each other in casual conversation.
Yours,
Hilatron
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Dear Guys Who Say "But I'm Giving You a Compliment! What's the Problem?",
Here is the problem. When I am walking hither and thither, doing my thing, chances are that I am not lonely, or seeking reassurance. Chances are that I am thinking thoughts, or singing songs in my head, or figuring out how to solve the problems of the world. I am in a groove, as it were. When you intrude upon my consciousness with your "compliment," you interrupt the groove. And my groove, let me assure you, is sacred. Disruptions in the groove cause distress, upheaval, and in some cases, injury. Let me clarify: the injury is not to me. Do you really want to be a part of that?
Problem Part 2: it has been noted that in almost all cases, the Guys addressed above are with compatriots. There is a certain something in the air during these interactions which causes me to believe that the goal of the Guy is not, in fact, to improve my self-esteem. No. It seems to me that the alleged complimenting is usually for the benefit of the companion Guys, a sort of group sport thing. Or perhaps it is a way for the lonesome Guy to win attention and approval from his fellows. Allow me to suggest that the next time you wish to bond with your friends, rather than disrupting the Groove, you turn your complimentary eye to your actual object. I can assure you that announcing "Hey, Bob, nice tits!" will garner you all the attention you desire.
Truly,
Hilatron