So I got hit on today while buying eggs at a gas station (and that's a whole other blog, my friend) by a middle-aged Middle Eastern man who smelled of cumin...which smells like B.O. ...AND I WAS STOKED! This never happens to me and it's always been like this except for the occasional passing-by of a gardener's truck filled to the brim with whistling Latinos but that doesn't count. They'd whistle at the love child of Carrot Top and Janet Reno (being played by Will Ferrell.) And now that I'm married, the event is totally obsolete, which is fine - you can't miss what you never had.
I decided long ago in my pre-married life that I must put out a "don't talk to me" vibe or something because I saw girls get hit on all the time and it was never me. I mean, I'm aware that I'm not a supermodel by any stretch of the imagination but I consider myself mildly attractive with no unfortunate deformaties that would cause someone to head to the nearest trash can to dry heave into. So when girls all around me were getting flirted with by complete strangers, why was I not getting flirted with by complete strangers? I've come up with some reasons behind this never-getting-hit-on-hardly-ever theory:
1) I was getting hit on but never realized it (wishful thinking)
2) I'm a stuck up snob who thinks she's average looking but really is butt-ugly but never realized it
3) I was usually standing next to:
a) one of my boyfriends (who I fondly refer to as my "chain of fools" now)
or
b) one of my so-strikingly-gorgeous-you-just-about-fall-over friends or so-over-the-top-CUTE-you-just-can't-handle-it friends so I was always completely overshadowed
Yep. I think that's the one. Well today Plain Jane had herself a victory, my pretties. The stinky gas station cashier man made a pass at me over a carton of eggs and a package of Swedish Fish. How do you like THEM apples?
8 comments:
If you've got it, you've got it. I have often felt neglected while my friends got hit on as well, but I always felt that you were one of the those friends that overshadowed me. Sometimes I was happy not to be the one hit on, remember Graham and Audra? No thanks.
I used to get hit on by sixth graders. Does that count?
only if you were also in sixth grade.
p.s. - I found a charcoal drawing I had done left over from Graham's modeling days awhile back but cannot for the life of me find it now. I was going to scan it, Photoshop in some glittery pink snake skin over his grey-sketched speedos, and do a Graham blog. But alas, my almost-nude drawing of him is nowhere to be found. This is certainly a day of tradegy.
You are HOTT... (yes, with TWO T's) I mean... who wouldn't hit on you while you were buying EGGS!
Please tell me you didn't have the girls with you. Cause that would just be WIERD!
I know what I will be fasting for next Sunday.
I discovered while living in Baltimore that obese African Americans missing teeth find me attractive. That's not a racist statement, by the way. Just a fact. It was proven several times on the metro.... Since having children, however, no one finds me attractive. I think your problem, Annie, is more of the, "you're TOO good looking and guys are intimidated" frame of mind....
congrats! the last person i was hit on by was a very, very large african american missing several teeth... he made me show him my wedding ring to prove i was married. i don't think my post-baby body has had any hits...
Please don't forget about your so-freakishly-malodorous-I-just-can't-look-away friends.
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