"Don't worry. It's okay."

But I am worried. This guy keeps inching closer to me. My first instinct was that he was going to pickpocket me. I clutched my bag tighter and tighter to my chest.

Now, I think he might put his head on my shoulder any second. He'd boarded the train two stops after my friend and I did, and ever since then I could feel his eyes boring into the back of my head.

As I've said before, the best thing to do in a situation like this is use evasive tactics. I pretend I don't hear him. My friend, skilled in the ways of the commuter, keeps chatting — about the movie we just saw, about the weather, about Lindsay Lohan versus Britney Spears. Anything to avoid a lull in the conversation because when that happens…

"You are so cute."

Then he taps me on the shoulder. Instinctively, I turn toward him and break the cardinal rule — do not make eye contact under any circumstances. He looks fairly harmless with his backpack and button-down shirt.

My friend whispers, "I don't smell alcohol." Neither do I, but there is something altered about him.

"What language do you speak?" he asks now that he has my attention.

This forces me to move to level two of subway avoidance, which I am not very good at: the freeze out. "English."

"Really? I speak English, too. Yeah, I do. You speak so nice. I was listening to you. You are so cute."

I suppose there is a double standard here. This guy has clearly crossed the line to Creepyville, but had he looked like George Clooney (a girl can dream), I would have already given him my number. This guy does not look like George Clooney. They never do.

"Where are you from?"

Since we're already in the borough, I go with the obvious. "Brooklyn."

"Really? Wow! Me, too! You are so cute."

My friend says, "Do you want to move?" We are still about four stops from home, maybe ten more minutes, which will seem like eternity. Yet, we don't move. It's the same reason I'm not very good at the freeze out. I don't want to seem rude. For some reason I would rather be uncomfortable than to embarrass him or call more attention to the situation. I think this is the good-girl syndrome, as in, "Just be a good girl and don't make trouble," or "Good girls are well-mannered and considerate." Boys don't seem to be raised with the same mantras. It takes good girls a long time to learn to speak up and not be taken advantage of.

Would I tell him to stop talking to me? It seems extreme, so I just sit there and try to ignore him when he suddenly pops up and runs off the train at the next stop. I suddenly felt bad for him. I mean, this is a tough way to get a date.

George, if you're reading this, I'll be on the Q train tomorrow, conductor's car.

Jacquelin Cangro