Dutch and I had breakfast the other morning. He accused me of being “too nice to men.”

“Jane, you need to stop striking up conversations with complete strangers. When we go out and you pay any attention to a man, he thinks you’re hitting on him. You’re giving him mixed signals and he thinks he has a chance. It’s a cruel trick… you need to stop.”

I was floored. “Dutch, that is ridiculous! Men do not think I’m flirting with them, just because I’m friendly and nice!”

He shook his head and finished sipping his coffee. “Yes they do.”

I thought about this for a minute while I drank my chocolate milk. There might be something to what he said. It could explain what happened to me at my part time job earlier this week…

It all started a few weeks ago, during the primary elections for mayor in St. Paul. I had rung up a transaction for a gentleman at the register. As he paid for his items, he vaguely mentioned that he was a vote counter for the City of St. Paul. That sounded interesting to me, and I asked him a little bit about his job and what the final results of the election were. He looked a little burned out, but perked up when I expressed interest in what he did. (I can always find something to talk about with a stranger.) We chatted for a few seconds. Then he kept standing in front of my register trying to remember the exact results, but… he couldn’t. (People were starting to line up behind him.) I needed to hurry him along.

“Thanks so much. Have a great evening, and don’t work too hard!”

He moved towards the door, “I’ll find out those results for you.”

I had moved on to the next customer, looked up, smiled and said, “Great!”

Yeah, it was an insignificant moment in my life. But apparently, it meant a little more to him. Two weeks after the election, I was again working at my part time job when I turned around. I was standing face to face with the same gentleman. (It took me a few seconds to place him.)

“Hi Jane!” He looked down at my nametag. (I’m never sure if customers are looking at my nametag or my breasts. I always assume it’s the nametag, because I have a hard time believing my breasts draw much attention.) “I have those election results for you.”

What is this nut talking about? Oh my gosh! He actually came back to the store to tell me the election results he couldn’t remember two weeks ago!

He seemed so proud as he rambled off statistics of the votes counted. I already knew which candidates won… everyone knew. Why was he telling me this?

“Um, wow that’s great. Was there anything else here in the store that you needed help finding?” I tried so hard to muster up some enthusiasm or to sound genuinely interested in what he had to say, but I was really creeped out. (And, I think he sensed it.) This man had tracked me down two weeks later just to tell me something that meant nothing to me.

He shifted on his feet, “Oh yeah, well I was here at the store for something else. I just saw you and thought you’d like to know. So, yeah… have a good day.”

I tried to remove the freaked out and horrified expression from my face and be polite, but it was difficult. “Um, okay, well thanks.”

He quickly scurried off. The meeting had become uncomfortable for both of us. (Eeeek!)

As I sat in the café with Dutch, I realized that maybe he might be right. However, what am I supposed to do? Change my personality? I can’t help that I’m a perky person. I like talking with people. Why… I don’t know!

I pondered a little longer. It’s definitely my parents’ fault. (I blame them completely.) I inherited the ‘friendly/strike up a conversation with a stranger gene’ from my father and my mother drilled it into my conscious and subconscious that I needed to be kind to ‘boys’ when they make an effort to talk to you. I remember her lecture well:

“Janie, it takes a lot of courage for a young man to talk to a young lady, especially when they like you. You should be polite even if you aren’t interested. Girls can be very cruel when they dismiss a boy. Don’t be like that!”

So, I received one message from my mother and now a conflicting one from Dutch. This is so confusing! Arg! (Dutch also informed me that we had missed “National Talk Like A Pirate Day”. So we proceded to make up for it the rest of the morning…)