I spend an embarrassing amount of money on idiotic games for my iPhone, which I then spend an embarrassing amount of time playing during my commute. Be it morning or night, I am inevitably tired (so, so tired). Half the time I’m not even aware of what’s happening on the screen, just mindlessly dragging my thumb around because my reptilian brain finds the colors and movement soothing.
A few weeks ago, I was riding the subway and numbly murdering Flappy Bird over and over again when a man tapped me on the shoulder.
“It’s all about the rhythm,” he said.
“What?” I asked, not unreasonably. He gestured to my phone.
“Trust me,” he said. “You’re tapping too fast.”
“Okay,” I said.
“What’s your high score?” he asked. “Mine is 10.”
“Okay,” I said.
“You’ll get there,” he said, then winked.
This morning, a guy on the A train leaned over my shoulder to offer his fully unsolicited thoughts on my game of Threes.
“Right, hon. Swipe right,” he said. “Want me to show you?”
Fuck no, you creepy creepo. I made a face and turned my phone off — a decision I quickly regretted, because I really, really wanted to keep playing Threes.
Gentlemen? Never, ever do this. Peeking at the screens of other people’s electronic devices — openly admitting to peeking, anyway — is unacceptable. Engaging your fellow subway passengers in conversation, in any context, is basically tantamount to a war crime. Please do not acknowledge my (or anyone else’s) presence, especially not early in the morning or late at night. Why make this any harder that it already is?
But most importantly: Flappy Bird is literally the dumbest shit in the entire world. Threes, vaguely math-y though it is, isn’t much better. Is your need to be controlling really that desperate, that overpowering, that deeply encoded into your DNA that you can’t resist critiquing the performance of a half-asleep stranger?
This isn’t flirting. This is just being a dick.