Thursday, June 18, 2009

Flattering? I guess?

I have mentioned in other blog posts that I don't get hit on very often...not fishing, just facts. However, whenever I do, it is nearly always an unsavory experience. Some of these are very old stories so bits of the details are a bit hazy...some of them are clearer, but here are some of my stories (see also the New York post).
A bunch of months ago, I was watching the divine Ms. S. in an opera...as I left, I was "hit on" by a SEEMINGLY nice, older man, who ended up stroking the tops of my feet *shudder*. In that scenario, I didn't realize I was being hit on until it was morphed into a weird upsetting, if brief, foot "incident". It was odd, and creepy, but at least he was nice (again, until the very mild assault), and at an opera. And I was dressed up.
The lovely Ms. N and I went to go see Wicked the last time I was in CA. After the show, we drove back to her neighborhood and we decided we need some very late night snacks. Again, we were dressed up (having been at the theatre and all) so we decided against fast food, and found what looked like an old style diner. There weren't many patrons, just us and a huge party of barely not teens and another couple at another table. We were the best dressed, by miles. We enjoyed our snack and were just hanging out. The party had just cleared out and a VERY, very meaty man in a double breasted suit walked in. Ms. N and I sorta sniggered quietly because he look so mafioso. He walked towards up, followed by a much, much smaller man, who walked to the corner table, near us, where the teens had been. The Big Man stopped at out table and said "Bella donnas!", LITERALLY kissed the tips of his fingers, looked up to the heavens and said something else in Italian. He kissed both of our hands, and commented on how beautiful we were and how nice it was to see ladies dressed up and asked our names. His name, just for the record, was Sal (because he was in the mafia). We both said thanks, introduced ourselves and blushed (because we are from Canada), and then he started REALLY pouring on the charm, lots more Italian "sweet talk", and asked us if we would join him and his "associates" (yes, really, he said his associates, BECAUSE HE WAS VITO CORLEONE!). We politely and somewhat nervously, declined (because we are Canadian, not crazy). He lingered awhile longer and we beat a hasty retreat. When we went outside, there was a guy waiting by a a huge Cadalliac, because, he was IN THE MAFIA! Upsetting, but sorta classy, in a very alarming way.
Another time, I was at Grocery Outlet, that bastion of classy eats. The Husband was at BK (speaking of classy eats!) and I was running into GO for some comfort foods for magnificent Mr. M. As I was walking down the aisle, I walked past two guys and heard one ACTUALLY saw "Daaaayumn". I assumed he was excited about the great values...apparently that wasn't it. He told me I was hot...I blushed, (because apparently I can't NOT blush, not matter what I think of the people involved in the situation) said thank you and kept shopping. We bumped into each other in another bargain packed aisle and he asked me if I wanted to go out with him. I said, no, thanks, I am married. After I checked out and went back out into the parking lot, and was getting into my car, they drove past and said they hoped to see me again. At Grocery Outlet. I mean, I enjoy a deal, but really?? Nothing classy about this, at all.
Today, I was at the Dollar Store (which is beside Grocery Outlet incidentally) picking up some bubbles, like you do. I turned and made unintentional eye contact with a dude coming into the store...sorry, who was pimp rolling into the store. He even had the baseball hat with the stiff brim and 2 carat "diamond" earrings. Playa fo sho. I thinks nothing of it and keep shopping. I pass him in another aisle and he said "We keep running into each other, gotta stop doing that." I laughed in that "stranger made a banal comment that was meant to be a joke" way. I kept going and he said, "hey come back, something is coming out"...I was wearing pants with zippered pockets on the sides of the legs, so it was possible that something was indeed escaping my pockets...so I stopped to look. And he FULLY eyed me up and down and took a very, very long look at my ass. I am now on to him. So, I say thanks, and walk away. He then says "You are walking so fast, slow down for a second, come back...you got somewhere to be?". Normal people can ignore these sorts of things, I would imagine. I, apparently, cannot be impolite to strangers or I will be turned to a pillar of dust...so I stop, again, to explain that I am in a hurry. However, instead of saying "To get away from pimps in search of dollar store goodness" I said "Yeah, I have to go pick up kids". What kids? Who can say. Luckily, he didn't ask. I picked kids because I thought perhaps that would quell the desire. Not in our Romeo. He said "Oh, oh. Well, so, do you live around here?" And I said "Yeah, sorta." And he said "Coo', cooo'. So, can I get your number or something?" And I said..wait for it "No, sorry. Thanks though." Ohhhhhh Canada *facepalm* and then I very nearly ran to the checkout. He was calling after me, but this time I didn't stop. Finally. I saw him in his car in the parking lot and he eyed me again and waved.
*sighs* I am not on the market, obviously, but it would nice if just once, just ONCE I regretted not being availble because the guy hitting on me was so cool, hot, awesome, in possesion of all his teeth...apparently this is not my fate. I guess it is nice just being....nominated?

2 Comments:

Blogger Richmond said...

It worries me a bit that you always say that it's the sketchy guys who are into you...but I tell you all the time how gorgeous I think you are. What does that say about me?

6/19/2009 12:12:00 AM  
Blogger Scott said...

blogs are dead! Ugh!

10/13/2010 12:36:00 PM  

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