A few weeks ago I was waiting for the bus after work at Queens Square, it was about 8:45pm and I'd just been looking in my bag for my phone when someone sat down weirdly close to me. He wasn't a space invader, but there were plenty of other places he could have sat. I glanced at him and saw he was your typical Liverpool scal'. Black trackies, shaved head, that's all I needed to see to know I should cling onto my bag a little tighter.
I turned away to watch for the bus, and about ten seconds later I heard "Where are you from?". I flinched, I didn't expect chatting. I assumed he was talking to someone else until he said it again: "Ay girl, where you from?".
I said "Here", and turned away.
He said "Yeah but where? Like where in Liverpool?"
I wondered if I should just say "Why don't you shut up?" But I just couldn't. I quickly tried to remember if I had ever heard of a scam where people can empty your bank account just by knowing what area you're from, and then replied: "Aintree". The only reason I said that is because I honestly couldn't remember what my area was called. Aintree was the first part of Liverpool I could remember. I was at a bus stop where none of the buses that stopped there went anywhere near Aintree, but it didn't phase him.
He said "Oh yeah, yeah, I'm from ...". I can't remember, I doubt I was even listening.
I turned away from him and immediately heard "You work in that Waterspoons, yeah?". I turned back to him and he was pointing at my sleeve with the name of my shop on it.
"You mean Waterstones?" I said.
"Haaa" he said, pointing again. "Yeah...Waterstones, do you like it there?"
"Yeah." I said. There was a pause. He kept looking at me. "Yeah...it's good."
He smiled "I think I might go get a job there ya know."
I smiled and said "Ha, really?". I noticed he was wearing a massive 'diamond' stud in one ear. I tried to remember which one we'd all named the 'gay ear' as kids.
I turned away again and heard "How old are you?". I turned my head back to him sharpish, pretending I was offended. He held up his hands and said: "I mean, if you don't mind me askin' like...".
I told him I was 24 (another lie that surprised me), and he raised his eyebrows and exhaled like as if I'd told him I was 94.
"Oh....yeah ha ha, wow..."
Now I was offended!
"How old are you?!" I said, even though I'd promised myself I wouldn't encourage any more conversation.
"19 like."
It looked like he wouldn't say anything else, he was clearly repulsed by my advanced age. I turned away from him and kept my bag clutched close to my stomach. A few minutes went by and I could sense he was still there. Other people waiting for the bus were looking every now and then, probably grateful he hadn't chosen them. Then I heard: "So, do you live with your parents?". I think I actually sighed.
"No." Keep it snappy, he might go away. I couldn't just start ignoring him, especially since he'd apparently forgiven me for being a few years away from my pension.
"You live on your own?"
"No."
I'm bored now.
"Who do you live with?"
"Just my boyfriend"
"Arrrr..." he sighed.
Had he been trying to flirt with me? Was I just being vain?
"Well he's lucky, 'im." he said after a pause. I was right. Oh my god. He continued: "I'm lookin' for a girl, me, you know".
I was intrigued. I sniggered and said "At the bus stop?"
He didn't know I was joking. "Yeah, not just this one, all the other ones as well."
I said "So you just go around the bus stops looking for girls to talk to?"
He said "Yeah, sometimes I take them home for drinks and tha'. I don't like the bars though, the bouncers don't let you in and the boyfriends get in the way".
The last thing he asked me was the time, and this reminded me to keep my bag clutched tight. Would someone go to such lengths to get me to loosen my grip on my bag? Would someone spend that much time showing their face to so many witnesses just for the sake of an empty purse and a broken umbrella? He sauntered off without my bag and everyone in the bus stop stared at me. I stared right back.
As my bus left Queens Square I couldn't help but look for him, and sure enough, there he was at the number 6 stop chatting up an awkward-looking blonde with her bag clutched to her stomach.
