Operation: WTF (Day 37)

Army of Men, Part 2

Because the men are so special they get two blogs.

Seriously, we’ve only been here a month.  A MONTH.  Are the sexual frustrations already mounting?  Some of these guys I don’t even believe they get it that much at home for them to be fiendin’ so hard.  Especially these old married men.  I doubt the wife was puttin’ it out like that to be so stressed.

The Powers-That-Be have begun to stress the seriousness of having a battle buddy.  Over There is a very serious place with serious issues going on.  Forget about the mortar rounds and insurgency, it’s like Cold Spring Lane out there.  Not a place to be alone.  Even though my battle buddy is male, I don’t ever get the feeling that he is going to knock me over the head and drag me behind a connex, but some of these guys, I’m really beginning to feel that way.

First, there’s Mr. Rodolfo.  Maybe he’s just a friendly guy, or maybe he’s not.  Why does he feel compelled to speak to me and only me, even though there are many other soldiers standing around.  I feel singled out.  I feel creeped out.  A few other females have mentioned this as well, so I don’t feel like I’m overreacting in this particular instance.

Second, Mr. Mortimer.  Ugh.  I don’t even know what to say about this guy.  He tried to approach me in a respectable way but quickly botched the whole job.  It would have been cute if it wasn’t actually so hideous.  No, he’s decent enough as far as looks but personality?  I don’t think so.  Now there’s this awkwardness and this is the real reason why you should not attempt to date people you work too closely with.  Everything is just weird.

Last but not least, and WORST OF ALL, are Mr. Androtti and Mr. Loring.  I had the misfortune of running into these guys one day while waiting for lunch.  I was minding my own business with my ID card in hand when one of them happened to look at the picture.  Everyone is always agog at my ID card picture, and usually I don’t mind the attention.  I didn’t take the picture to hide it, but when you constantly lavish over it in an odd and over the top way.  Mr. Androtti and Mr. Loring both started to tell me their life stories.  It was like the longest five minutes in my whole entire life waiting for the doors to open.  Mr. Androtti kept going on about how beautiful I was and if he had seen me in civilian clothes he would try to “holla.”  Mind you, this man is about 51 years old and thoroughly unattractive in a way that is not mean to be mean, but in a way that makes me think of one of my grandfather’s drinking buddies.  Mr. Rodolfo makes me feel uncomfortable and Mr. Mortimer just makes me want to laugh, but if I ran into Mr. Androtti while I was by myself Over There, I would go “black” in a New York minute.  If you don’t know what that means, don’t worry about it.  Someone like that I’d have to be careful.

I ran into Mr. Androtti and Mr. Loring again.  This time I am in PTs.  I felt like I was naked.  The look this man gave me was thoroughly repulsive.  I sat down to eat and for some strange reason, the chow hall actually had something I didn’t mind eating.  They were already seated but they got up and brought their trays over and said, “Oh, we wouldn’t want a pretty lady eating by herself.”  Oh, I don’t mind, thanks anyway.  They didn’t even talk, which was even creepier but Mr. Androtti stared at me over his food like he wanted me to be the main course.  I didn’t even finish eating and I told them that I was on duty and had to rush out.

It’s that serious.  I hope they are going some place else.

I don’t want to end this on a stressful note, so I’ll mention one other guy:  Mr. Gregory.  I don’t know who this guy is, or where he’s from but every time I see him, he’s like, “Oooh, girl, I love that hair!”

Yeah.

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