Eunuchs and Nymphomaniacs by Anonymous

Author:Anonymous
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: Gallery Books
Published: 2019-10-14T16:00:00+00:00

Back on Prince Street I began to notice a group of guys stopping girls, attempting to talk to them.

A cluster of three or four guys, one of whom seemed to be some sort of leader or coach who egged the others on. Because of their proximity to my table I worried that visits and sales might be affected by their antics. If girls were being harassed I wasn’t going to sell them any books and more to the point if anyone was going to do any harassing I wanted it to be me.

So I kept an eye on them.

They huddled together, obviously discussing the merits of passing girls and every now and then one of them detached and ran past his target until he was well ahead of her before turning around and performing a sort of jump-and-plop in front of her. Each guy who broke away from the group in pursuit of a girl employed this same strange piece of choreography. Some girls walked directly past or dodged to the side, hardly breaking their stride, but a surprisingly large number stopped and engaged in conversation. From my position I could read each girl’s face as she was accosted. Polite interest morphed into mild disgust or undisguised delight depending on the success of the presenter.

His cohorts watched intently, turning to each other at various points, exchanging knowing looks. By now, he had either been told to fuck off or he was thumbing his phone. Whatever the result he would return to his buddies for a conspiratorial huddle. I thought at first it was a group of drunken guys out on the town chatting up girls between pubs. But they were much more organized than that. A very stylish girl walked past them. If they hadn’t been there I would have definitely asked her to stop for a photo. But this time a small stubby-looking guy waddled on ahead of her and jumped/stopped in exactly the same way the previous guy had done. The others looked on with interest. They might have been watching a sports event. I only saw them on the weekends from noon until five PM. Never any later. Never any sooner. The girl, who looked very intelligent, blushed as the little gnome took out his phone.

I was intrigued of course.

They were obviously experimenting with ways to meet women and this was something I was always interested in. Also there was an element of competition involved since I was mining the same terrain. After all, if a girl had already been stopped by these assholes I didn’t feel I could insist myself on her for a photo. When one of them was left red-faced after an aborted attempt to talk to a tall, tough-looking, expensively dressed model who swept past my table like a yacht, he looked around desperately for his teammates. His embarrassment beamed outward from him and perhaps because he was happy to see a face that expressed interest rather than more rejection he stopped at my table.

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