These are the times I enter the world of the not always typical, neurotypicals or those who are not Autistic. These recounts of my encounters are for amusement purposes. For those who can, enjoy the links in blue. You may need to click the "back" button on your browser to return here.
I love venturing to thrift shops, and finding odd items. At times, however I'm the odd item someone's looking for. I was inspecting a most interesting bow curve on an assembly of wood and string with no purpose other than to study the beauty of the curve. In my own world and pleasantly so, I heard a man's cheerful voice say, "That just may be a keeper." I said I didn't know what it was, and I turned it over trying to decipher the French on the back. He said, "Ah, it's a fire starter," and at that point I saw the pictorial instructions on the back, and laughed slightly for not realizing the pictures were there.
Slight laughs do strange things to some men. His voice changed, "Mmm...I just love strawberry blonde hair," into something reminiscent of Barry White's "Can't Get Enough of Your Love Baby."
I turned toward the sound only to find him reaching (no really) reaching for my hair! I leaned a step back gently (like any cobra would), and gave him by best, "What are you thinking?!!" stare with attendant, "Do you realize you are attempting to TOUCH me?!!!" He pulled back his hand such as one might if fingers had been bitten off.
I liked that part, until I noticed the plastic temporary hospital band on his wrist. His face, though not green was a lack of pink closer to chalk yellow than blue. He was walking around, apparently not in pain, trying to feel my hair, and perhaps still medicated. I try to be gentle in these situations, not that keeping or stealing a hospital bracelet is going to have much of an effect on me.
I'm not one to have any fear of dead silences and often enjoy them, but seeing his trance, I figured I must have been inadvertently backlit. I don't know how that can happen in fluorescent lighting, but it occurs more often that one might expect..or so it seems. I thought to speak, "My mother gave it to me." I feined a smile. At that time, his voice turned to a soprano giggle. and he said, "Oh yeah! Your mother must have given it to you," oddly, since I'd just said that. He turned quickly, and screwed up his face as he was turning away in a harrumph that sounded like, Bon Jovi's, "You Give Love a Bad Name."
I hope he was no further wounded, and that he made it safely home. What I learned: On the right drugs, hair can make people really friendly. Yikes!