Going back in time a bit when I landed in the UK - pre meeting that guy on Tinder - I was waiting in line to get through customs when this noticeably short guy bumped me from behind. I was standing still and the line wasn't moving, so it was kinda weird that it happened, but he was immediately like, "oh man, sorry about that", so I told him it was alright. He bumped me in a way that made it so that he ended up a little in front of me, but after a second of what looked like hesitation more than anything else he let out a quiet "oh shit, sorry", turned around, and shuffled back behind me. Was he trying to cut into the line? He had a recessed jaw, a fivehead, a snub nose and dark bags under his eyes even though his gaze was attentive and he seemed well-rested. I told him that it was alright a second time, although my response was delayed by my brief examination of his face.
Now he was standing behind me, though, which felt weird. I felt the need to periodically turn my head around and glance at him to make sure he didn't try touching me or anything. After the first few times I did it he noticed and started looking down at the floor. He coughed once shortly after that and I really hoped he wouldn't start trying to make small talk with me. A "what's your name?", "what brings you to the UK?" or a "who are you visiting?" would have made my time spend in line with this weirdo feel like an eternity. I think I heard him breathing wheezily at one point too (which would make sense, he certainly looked like he was in poor health).
I wished to myself that the man waiting behind me would disappear into some atemporal realm from which he could never bother me again, but then I felt bad about that. That's not a nice way to feel about anyone, what would all my friends think if they heard me say stuff like that? Stacy would think I was such a bitch. I glanced back at him again and caught sight of his greasy forehead situated a couple of inches under mine. This guy really doesn't take care of himself, huh? He looks like one of the dudes you'd find on r/neckbeardstories or r/niceguys, yikes.
He was using some kind of google phone I didn't recognise too. Get an iphone dude, an android maybe seeing as that'd be more up to your speed, but not this. What? Who are you dude, why are you so weird? He was browsing what looked like 4chan on his phone too, although he pretty quickly noticed I was watching him and jammed his phone into his pocket awkwardly without even pressing the button to turn off the screen.
The help helpers I saw on the screen of his phone made me wonder - was this guy a misogynist racist incel? He certainly looked like one. Did he hate girls because they're "selfish" or whatever inkels say they are? I'm sure if this virgin tried smalltalk with me he would have some truly colourful openers. If his heart did harbour a burning hatred for 50% of humanity I could almost certainly smell it from here (metaphorically, of course; all I could smell was airport, although the incel standing behind me certainly looked like he smelled). He was probably everything I was worried my 4 year old son back in America would one day turn into - an angry, entitled permavirgin with no confidence who spent his time on imageboards instead of with friends or with a girlfriend like normal people choose to. I calmed myself down and tried not to pay attention to him anymore.
Suddenly, the incel let out an "excuse me" that I could tell had been directed up at my ear. I turned around quickly, just in time before he tapped my shoulder with one of his spindly little fingers (his hands were smaller than mine), and let out a stern "what?" to make it clear I wasn't interested in being hit on. He sighed, hesitated for a second and then asked, "Is this the non-UK passport line?" When he spoke to me directly and didn't mumble I got to fully appreciate (in the same way that one appreciates the sound of nails on a chalkboard) the high-pitched, nasally voice that his small body managed to project out of his mouth. Regretting even asking him what he wanted, I quickly snapped back that it was indeed the non-UK passport line, and that he should look at the sign (even though the sign was blank on the side facing us and was only visible to people entering the line). He sounded intimidated by me, probably because I was a "femoid".
Two teenage girls standing behind us, both slightly taller than him, glanced at him when he spoke as if to say "woah, that was a bit of a yikes." I'm no social genius, but maybe you should only try to strike up a conversation with somebody when they actually want to talk to you and it'll go better.
I'm feeling really uncomfortable at this point. I thought it was weird he bumped me when the line wasn't moving, I thought it was weird he tried to manipulate the situation so I'd stand next to him or he could cut in, I thought it was weird that he used alt-right websites, also stop breathing so loudly please. I really hope he doesn't try to touch me again. I didn't feel unsafe or anything, because, I mean, customs at the airport is probably one of the safest and most security-guarded places you can be, and there are plenty of people around, but he's still a scraggy-looking napoleon complex weirdo in a hoodie with crazy in his eyes. It got quiet again because I wasnt really trying my hardest to keep up the conversation and it stayed that way, I think he got the message and decided to stay away from me.
As I left the line I heard the two teenage girls jokingly tell him that it was nice meeting him and they called him a nerd. Serves him right.
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