Few things earn my disdain faster than someone who courts attention but won’t fully lean in and just ask for it.
Like, say the woman in front of me in line at a coffee shop just last week who was carrying a full fucking wizard staff wrapped up like a Maypole, but had the audacity to whisper—she was only communicating via whisper, at least then and there—to the barista, “Thanks for being so kind to a shy girl.” Like, I’m sure she has her reasons, and I’m sure someone, somewhere will argue that being shy and courting attention aren’t mutually exclusive, but, like…come on.
Other offenders include the man who does fancy rollerskating on a very busy street just outside my office, whom I’ve overheard tell people he uses because “it’s just the best place in town to skate!” (never mind that there’s a full, non-vehicular greenway just a mile away; it is, I’ll give him, probably one of the best places to skate if you want to get hit by a car), or the woman who frequents another coffee shop I frequent who regularly brings three misbehaved dogs whose leashes she barely grasps, and then feigns both embarrassment and surprise when they “slip away” again and jump all over groups of people simply attempting to work or socialize or drink their coffe, or…just not talk to her.
I know we don’t know what’s happening at home or what might be driving these folks to court attention so hard, and that I should, perhaps, be more empathetic…but I think, if I’m being honest, I’m just typing this right now because it feels like getting ahead of being called unkind, not how I actually feel. Because, increasingly, I just feel annoyed.
Also, increasingly—and I still genuinely find ASB (attention-seeking behavior) one of the great banes of existence—when the demand for attention is SO brazen, and not at all cloaked in a who-little-ole-me coat of bullshit, I respect it. And could even find it charming.
Last week—coincidentally, the same day I encountered the wizard whisperer—I was driving up the Blue Ridge Parkway en route to a Wednesday-night sunset hike and made a pitstop at one of its overlooks for a restroom break. I parked but didn’t fully take stock of my surroundings as I was too preoccupied running into the woods to answer nature’s call.
When I emerged, back into the sunlight, I saw the only other person there was a man dressed in a full Julius Caesar costume: strappy Roman sandals, a white toga with gold trim, the requisite laurel wreath (I’m assuming here—I didn’t ask him, but really, what other famous Romans do people dress up as? Russell Crowe?). He was standing stock still, one hand in front of his face holding an unrolled scroll, in front of that…a tripod holding his iPhone at face level.
He turned when I came into his view, and we made eye contact.
“Wanna see something funny?” he asked. Sure, I said, not knowing how else to respond (I’m only rude and judgemental behind the safety of a keyboard, mostly), assuming he was about to read some grand proclamation.
Instead, he walked over to his phone, started playing an Irish reel, then walked back to where he’d been, got back into his initial pose, held himself there for a couple of seconds, and then started jigging.
I didn’t stay to witness the entire performance, but I was properly tickled…and very entertained.
AshevilleExplorer 