I turned the corner, and a hoodie-clad young man on the other side of the street darted towards me.
...mumbling something incomprehensible in Swedish
"Sorry?" I asked, warily.
"Oh, English!" he exclaimed, as if he had just had a revelation.
"I think you're beautiful!" came revelation number two.
Now most girls appreciate being told they're beautiful, but not usually by hoodie-clad strangers on the street at 11 pm on a Sunday night.
"Ummm, thanks," I mumbled, trying to be equally incomprehensible.
"My name is Jonas. Do you think you could like me?"
"Ummm, I don't KNOW you."If I talk to him, it'll only encourage him. If I don't talk to him, he might pull out a gun and shoot me.
"Do you have a boyfriend?"
"YES!"And he's as large as a linebacker.
"Well, do you want to be just friends?"
"Do you have any friends?"
"Yes, I have lots of friends."
"Do you think they would like me?"
"I don't think you want to know what they would think."
"Well, do you want my phone number, just in case, you know, one of your friends might want it?"
"That's an interesting approach, but I think you are going to have better luck, somewhere ELSE."