I went to the other branch of the tea place tonight, and it was packed. I would have taken my tea elsewhere, but I was meeting a friend for dinner two blocks away, and the rain, it was cascading upon my head. I found a corner of a couch, but the girl on the other end said someone might have been sitting there. "We can fit three on this couch," she said.
When the former occupant of the couch returned, he was That Guy.
Oh, you know That Guy. He sits a little too close, so you have to build a barricade of your bags. He sighs loudly, glancing sideways to see if you are paying attention. When you studiously examine your phone and never look up because all you want is a few quiet minutes to think, he starts to shift noticeably, moving the whole couch. When the other girl leaves the other end of the couch open, he shifts a little closer to you, if anything. He can't seem to imagine why you aren't paying attention to him, never mind that he creeps you out a little. The creepiness is partly the act, but more the entitlement.
I dated a guy like this once, minus the creepiness. The last time I saw him, we were at an event with some friends of mine, and he kept singing along with the music, thumping on the table like it was a drum, no matter how many times we asked him to stop because we were trying to think of a song for a trivia question that was not the one that was playing. He was perfectly nice, but he was putting on a show.
"I feel bad for him," one of my friends said, "because I've been that guy, hoping that the girl will see how cool you are."
So have I. So have we all. We all want to be noticed by someone we find interesting. It's just that sometimes, when That Guy sits too close to a stranger and acts like she owes him her attention, it all turns a little creepy.