Watching People Watching Me

Today I chose – for whatever reason – to spend part of my morning people-watching at the mall. I wanted to get a new pair of the black maryjane Crocs (sorry, Katie). The only place I know of that has a really big selection is the Dick’s Sporting Goods at Castleton Square Mall. Since I love my new car so much and enjoy driving the sporty little wagon, I didn’t mind heading up. I found the shoes I wanted in the size I wear, which is usually rather difficult as I tend to be somewhere in between a kids’ size three and women’s size seven. I think that’s a major reason I like Crocs so much; they’re made wide and my fat little feet can rest and splay out on a marshmallowy cushion when I’m at work, on those dogs, for six hours.

I was feeling a bit hungry and the Dick’s is right next to the food court so I got myself a small sandwich and some juice and happily sat down at a table to watch the moms and college girls on summer break and octogenarians cruising around. I was prepared to at least overhear some interesting conversations, but what I found somewhat surprising was the amount of sad glances I got. As if people found it depressing that I was sitting alone, eating.

I don’t know if it’s an Indiana thing, but for some reason, people don’t like loners in restaurants or at the movies. People feel “sorry” for someone by him or herself. I rather enjoy the independence I feel being comfortable by myself and quietly reading or escaping the inevitable after-movie conversation. Several times in the past couple of years I’ve gone to the movies alone and found a bit of a thrill in it. But people would keep passing up the seats near me, assuming I was waiting on someone. Of course, when you are holding seats for someone at the movies, people always sit in them.

Still, I enjoyed my morning and ended up meeting Charlie for a walk around Fry’s, looking at televisions and receivers that he’s convinced will enhance our audio/visual experience to an orgasmic level.


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