not again

What is it about the bus home on a Sunday night?

Does a sign mysteriously post itself on my forehead saying 'weird people please talk to me'?

Maybe it's the half-glaekit*, I-want-sleep look that I'm generally sporting at that time?

Seriously, it's like wasps to melted icicle. And I don't like wasps.

Tonight I was minding my own business, trying particularly hard to stay awake and be ignored, (I even had on headphones this time for added leave-me-alone emphasis. But no. It wasn't to be.

The girl sitting next to me started talking to me asking questions, which was fine.

But she was with a larger group and when she left with the girls, I was left with the overly friendly, incessantly pestering guys, who spent the whole of the rest of their time on the bus persistently trying to give me their phone numbers and persuade my as to why dating them would be a good idea.

And (a little too familiarly) asking repeatedly why I'm not married yet.

What is going on?

The only conclusion I can come to is that there is a mass Sunday night 'pester Becky' conspiracy that I have yet to get to the bottom of.

It's the only logical explanation.

And if that's the case, I'm not amused.

* (glaikit or glaekit = stupid, having a glazed expression)