This confession is super, super easy for me. I've definitely had my fair share of strange encounters with strangers.
It all began one night when I was at a restaurant with my husband. At this point in time, the two of us were just friends. Anyway, while we were waiting for our food, this guy came to our table. He was very tall and thin and smelled like cigarette smoke. He was dressed in all black, had a huge trench coat on and was wearing a cowboy hat. He was most definitely not an employee of the restaurant, so I was really curious as to why he was standing by our table.
Immediately following his arrival, he started talking to me. Not Dustin. Just me. In fact, he acted as if I was at the table all by myself. He began asking if I like to play pool. I told him no. He asked if I was interested in taking lessons, etc., etc., etc.
A few minutes went by, and I was doing all I could to contain my laughter. Dustin found things equally hilarious, so much, in fact, that he stayed completely out of the conversation. Apparently, he enjoyed watching me suffer as I attempted not to laugh all while listening to this guy tell me how wonderful he was at pool.
After some more small talk, I couldn't stand it anymore. I told this dude I would consider taking lessons. My main focus was getting him away from me. He asked for my number. Yeah, right. Instead, I told him I would call him. I asked for his number. He said he only had a pager (Hi, 1985). I wrote his pager number down. I then asked for his name. He said everyone just called him "Monkey Boy."
Ah, the suffering started again. Dustin's face turned red. We both tried to keep it together. It was so difficult.
I thanked Monkey Boy and was SO happy when he began walking away.