Don't Speak to Strangers?

Wow, I haven't been blogging for more than a week. I have been that busy with life.

Well then, something has been troubling me for a few days - and I thought I'd blog to get it off my chest.

On Friday, I parked Sophie at her grandma's place... and sat down at a cafe in the nearby mall to work on my Jesus illustrations.

Sitting at the next table was a foreign stranger (I won't mention where he is from) - tall, dark and handsome - working on his university research paper and struggling with English. Towards the end of my rather unproductive stay at the cafe, we greeted one another and he attempted to strike up a conversation with me, to which I obliged quickly, seeing how much he had wanted to practise speaking in English despite feeling a little embarrassed about his lack of proficiency. After all, I understood how he felt about it, as I have often been in his shoes, with regards to my Korean. He said that he was glad for an opportunity to speak English to a person belonging to the country whose culture he was "interested to learn".

The conversation - or what was supposed to be a conversation - went on for about half an hour. Regretfully, I found myself plotting after a while, a graceful escape from the cafe and the conversation. The alarm bells sounded for a few reasons.

First, it was possible that the chap had thought that I was single and available and desperate. He said things like, "I would love to meet you again, but we must not meet in quiet places. Public places are fine. I don't meet girls privately..." Er... who said that I was interested to meet you again? 

That was really awkward. I pasted a smile on my face.

Secondly, he asked if we could exchange numbers. We could plan to meet up again, whenever I came to that part of the island. I gave him my email address instead. He asked me to add him to my Facebook friends list. Well, I haven't.

Thirdly, the conversation was getting too one-sided (it was difficult for me to get a word in edgewise) and I wasn't sure if I had understood his English wrongly, but he was sounding more and more like a poet whose declarations were making me a little uncomfortable. Not just because of the grammar.

A friend (to whom I related some of the incident later) told me that he would have run. Well, I finally did - but he wouldn't let me go without having a piece of his doughnut (which he had cut into pieces) as a mark of friendship. (Oh yeah.) As he wouldn't take no for an answer, I grabbed a piece and ran. In my disorientation, I gulped it down hastily and absentmindedly when I was out of his sight.

What if it had been poisoned?

I am so cynical. Sorry about that.

I reflected on this incident long and hard after it was over. I wonder if I had been too impatient with him (not to mention suspicious). I wonder if I could have seen the incident in a more positive light. I still wonder what I could have done to better portray the love of Christ for this man whose sins He had died for.

And I feel bad for regretting that I had eaten that piece of doughnut. Should I have?