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I am not on YouTube or social media
Caught by your kindness
I should 'zip it'
[ 7 minute read ]
I have a strange medical condition that no medical staff have heard of, and it has never been documented. I talk rubbish to people despite being a fairly bright chap. That is not uncommon; just look in the dictionary under fool, or jester, or simpleton. I would prefer that your dictionary falls open at 'savant' before you get to 'fool' though.
I am not a savant. I am a fool. I picked up a habit of talking to strangers while I was getting used to living in The Netherlands. As soon as I discovered that I could speak English to the Dutch people, I did. In fact, back then I used it as an opener for conversations with women.
In a pub or at a bus stop.
'Hello, Do you speak English?'
'Yes, a little.' Which means, fluently.
'Would you mind speaking English with me for a while?'
'Okay!'
Even though I only wanted a conversation with a woman, if we liked each other I would have asked for a date. But I was never thinking beyond a chat when I started talking. Now I realise that, to them, I was coming on to them. My approach was likely intriguing to them because, at the time, Dutch men were the wallflowers and the women had to approach the ones they 'liked'. On top of that, the women where I lived had a lot of experience of English men trying to turn a chance into a story.
Now, somehow, I don't like how I was in those days. But this was a while back. In 2002, Shania Twain had a hit with 'I'm Gonna Getcha'.
I went to Genius and stole these lyrics:
[Chorus]
(I'm gonna getcha) I'm gonna getcha while I gotcha in sight
(I'm gonna getcha) I'm gonna getcha if it takes all night
(Yeah, you can betcha) You can betcha by the time I say "go"
(I'm gonna getcha) You'll never say "no"
(I'm gonna getcha) I'm gonna getcha, it's a matter of fact
(I'm gonna getcha) I'm gonna getcha, don't you worry 'bout that
(Yeah, you can betcha) You can bet your bottom dollar in time
(I'm gonna getcha, I'm gonna getcha) You're gonna be mine
Just like I should, I'll getcha good.
In 1992, Bizarre Inc, an electronic music band had a dance / trance track called, 'I'm gonna getcha'. that had the lyrics:
'I'm gonna get you, baby
I'm gonna get you, yes, I am
I'm gonna get you, baby
I'm gonna get you, yes, I am
Why waste your time?
You know you're gonna be mine
You know you're gonna be mine
You know you're gonna be mine.'
Lots of people were 'loved up' in those days having taken ecstasy.
Those weren't the examples I had in mind to illustrate my point; it was Blondie's 'One way or Another' (1978) featured in the 2000 film 'Ugly Coyote' that has the lyric, 'One Way or Another...I'm gonna get you'. and the refrain, 'I'm gonna getcha, I'm gonna getcha', that was in my head.
Blondie's song was used as an example in a radio chat show I heard, that predatory behaviour was publicly legitimised because pop culture influencers sang about it as a desirable quality. I can't remember when it was, probably before 2020 anyway.
Some things clang in our heads like discordant bells dropped down a belfry. Good Crikeyness! I thought. Really? I had images in my head of young women serenaded on balconies and men persistent in asking for a woman's hand and winning her heart for true love to wash through the rest of their lives. I never considered that stalking is having an idea of wanting to spend some time with someone I am attracted to. I suppose, seeing someone at the water cooler and sighing 'Why won't he or she notice me?' is a lot different to, 'I know what time he / she has a break and I am gonna engineer a meeting with her or him.' which is a long way off from 'I will make you mine.'
I never considered that some people might be offended by me wanting to speak to them and using a short-cut to create an opportunity for that event to occur. Don't be thinking that the Dutch are disadvantaged when faced with a native of a foreign language they are speaking in. The only way I could tell they were not native speakers of English is their beautiful Dutch accent and that they never split the infinitive. (Not split infinitive - To go boldly. Split infinitive - To boldly go).
From being an avid hitch-hiker throughout Europe when I was in my early twenties, I had picked up a habit of just talking to anyone who would stand still for a while, It can get pretty lonely when you are young and no-one speaks English and you don't speak five languages as well as your own.
I have never really kicked the habit of being chatty. The truth is, I have adapted it by including a splash of irony or humour when I speak English to people in England. It sometimes back-fires.
I don't appear, to my neighbours, to live an ordinary life and have ordinary values. That is, they perceive me as being different to them. They have cars, I do not; They are terse with their good morning greetings (if they make them at all to me) while I am effusive; they have a facade for being in public and a private life, while I am just the same inside and out. They are wary of me, and because they are wary of me they are scared of me, and because they are scared of me they don't like me.
The most obvious thing in my speech is that I do not join the dots between comments I make; I just assume the people with their fingers in their ears will do that. If I do join the dots, they think I am being patronising. I have no idea of the mental acuity of people I speak to. To join or not to join?
In my local shop, the shopkeeper was keen to talk to me as soon as I walked in. I would eventually get to the counter so I just 'shopped'. When I went to pay, he said to his wife, 'Here he is. Here comes Martin.' He asked me where I had been because I hadn't been in for a week or so.
'Hiding from you.'
'Why? You don't owe me any money.' I never have, and nor will I.
'You never know.' I blindly said. I didn't really want to have this kind of conversation so I was just glib and evasive.
At the Post Office part of the shop was a chap who lives obliquely across the road from me. 'He lives obliquely' might work in a poem about me. I had drawn his attention to me before the shopkeeper had started his questioning because the shopkeeper left him to come to greet me, and I had said, 'No I will wait. He is my neighbour, He lives in my road.' and 'He knows me.' It wasn't as it seems. I always give way to people whether they are on a lunch break, or if they have children in tow, or if they are in front of me in a queue. The 'He knows me' was the humour part. I know!
There are a number of facets to the scene now. There is a preconception of me held by my 'across the road' neighbour; there is an outward show of favour towards me; there is a suggestion that I might be so poor that I cannot afford food and build up debt; and there is my cross-functional spoken response to the shop-keepers curiousity as to where I had been for the last week.
Fortunately, this particular chap isn't chatty and he doesn't talk to anyone in our road, as much as I have seen; but I am not a curtain-twitcher.
It could have been quite awkward. My carefully cultured wacky persona swept from its clown-sized feet by a clumsy spoken exchange and replaced with a sad, poverty-stricken idiot. Did I get that the wrong way around through wishful thinking? Perhaps I am not fooling anyone, after all.
To top it off; when I got home I discovered the Ajwain Seeds I wanted to ask the shopkeeper about, such as, 'What do these taste like? And what dish (meal) would you put them in?' were in my carrier bag. I accidentally bought them. They smell like stale Rosemary and Thyme mixed together. Stale smell and taste seems to be a Sri-Lankan thing. If you like WoodApple Jam (My shopkeeper sells it), you might like to try licking sugar from your dishcloth!
Mind your language.
All the lyrics are from Genius online.