I've Got [all the wrong] Male

I find that I've hit a particularly low point in my life where I've had conversations with four types of males: married, creepers, 7th graders and Trader Joe's cashiers. What they all have in common? They are taller than me.

No, the men that I'm talking about don't look like this. Henry Cavill, you are a D-LIGHT.

Let's talk about the first one. Well, there's my father, then there's my friend's husband.... and my other friend's husband....... OH GOD. I don't hate love, I don't hate love. I don't hate love.

The second one. I actually enjoy talking to creepers and pushing them as far as I can tolerate. Usually, my boundaries are pretty extensive, so I can shame them into retreating, but the other night, it was just too much and I had to back down. I was ending my night at 5Paces, the fratty bar in Buckhead. Don't ask me how I got there, because it truly wasn't my choice. Since all we were going to were fratty bars for the night -I made an ultimatum: no male was going to engage me in conversation unless they were in possession of a little undeniable thing called YELLOW FEVER. They can't help it, they're ragin' for AZNs. Sadly, it takes them a while, if they're drunk to realize that I can hardly fulfill their fantasies of overtaking some FOB that doesn't know any better. So back to 5Paces. It's 2 AM, the bar is supposed to be closing, it's raining slightly. My friend and I are making our way down the back porch stairs and we are stopped by two country boys. I assume they want my friend, who is tall blonde and leggy. Instead, they are talking to me. ooooooo I relish in taking them on. I'm far from sober, but I can definitely see what is before my eyes. Two country boys in their mid-20s who could be 30 for all I care. They're drunk and don't care what they do, they want to bone tonight! Here goes our conversation:

Him: Hey, where do you think you're going? Come back and talk to me!
Me [playing along]: I'm going home.
Him: Where's home?
Me [thinking about where I could say, as far as possible...]: Stone Mountain.
Him: Oh, that's far. Why don't you crash with me instead?
Me: (I'm not speaking) I'm laughing.

BLAHBLAHBLAH

Him: What kind of Asian are you?
Me: What kind of Asian do you want me to be?
Him: Don't tell me you're Filipino?
Me: I'm not
My friend interrupts: She's 100% Chinese!
Him: I've always like Chinese girls!
Me: YAY! (Jackpot!)

BLAHBLAHBLAH

(After we find out that we're from neighboring high schools, he and his friend talk about their glory days. They are 4 years older than me and I've already forgotten their names. He turns back to me and smiles charmingly/smarmy-ly)
Him: So what are ya'll doing after this? You should come over to my place.
Me: I can't, I have Mother's Day tomorrow.
Him: Me too, we can ride home together.
Me: Uhhhh.. [I walk away]

So, I don't know exactly how to extricate myself from creeper conversations yet, but I think they get the hint that I'm not interested.

Part Three would be the 7th graders, on the third to last day of school, on Field Day. Yay. I'm a substitute to classes where the boy to girl ratio is about 19:4. At least 7th grade girls are just bitchy-back-stabbing trash-talkers. Seventh grade boys are taller than me, louder than me, and make me remember that I cannot touch a child. I walk in and all I have to do is turn on a movie, how hard could it be? I turn off the lights and the kids go nuts. They're wrestling, choking each other, going to other classrooms, throwing scarves. Anything physical, they like it. I don't understand why they can't sit still for just 1 hour and 40 mins and watch the damn Narnia movie that I was planning to.
I had to come to a lot of fake disciplinary measures, including: standing up and writing random shit on a note pad, to make them think that I'm writing their names down, pointedly death staring at a kid while he's punching another one [ I want to discipline them, but then I also want to laugh. ], and turning on the lights and yelling at them.

Them: We can't see the movie.
Me: I can see you. I don't care about the movie. You forced me to make a choice.
Them: We can't see the movie.
Me: Stop touching each other, and I'll turn the lights back down.
*snicker snick snick snicker*
I turn the lights back off.
They start up again.
I say to them: I swear, by this age, I would think that you would want to touch girls, not each other.
They laugh again and ignore me.

Some of these boys are trying to be cool, but I can tell that they're actually sweet and interested while being mean to each other and blatantly ignoring me. Isn't that what all girls think about boys?

The last part of my complaint includes the cashier men at Trader Joe's. I find that usually the man population at TJ's and Whole Foods is pritty fiiine and so when I go shopping, I try to dress accordingly. Unfortunately, I seem to attract the attention of the cashiers. I don't have a usual cashier, so what does it mean when they profess to know me, that I seem familiar? Why couldn't the cute boy that was buying his mother flowers for Mother's Day have asked me out instead?

So..... yeah. If you look like this:

Call me.