Just a few years ago I started to recognize that I have never Really been Hit On. Never really Truly Hit ON.
Yeah sure, the creepy Jeffrey Dahmer-esque guy at the bar that comes over with, "What's wrong? Smile" . Note to the boys: The WORST line. EVER!!!! Sure I've had That.
And of course, I've had the window washer guy, that is in 6 cartons of Newports deep, tell me I smell good. But never, an actual, Intentional HIT.
I started considering this after I had spent the day with an old friend. She was soon expecting her 2nd child. There she was with her swollen belly, fighting them off like flies. From the seat of her car, and from behind her shopping cart. The Hits, just kept on a comin'. And after a full day of this I feel befuddled, and slightly rejected. So I tell this story to my(now) ex, and he says the next 7 words, that I wouldn't soon forget:
"You don't look like a nice girl"
Wham!! There it was. The reason this gal ordered solo so many times she was out on Girl's Night. The reason her barstool stayed occupied, during many a midnight rendez- vous. The girl that even when completely content, appears to have #constantbitchface. He went on to elaborate that I don't look "approachable", and the slightly more complimentary, "You don't look like you take any shit". And I decided,: I could live with that.
I didn't need to meet someone in a bar. Because I'd rather be at home than bar closing. And I didn't need to meet someone during a dance, because watching a man dance is about the least attractive, most emasculating activity in the world to watch. And if your going to look at me, please do so without the inhibitions of being inebriated.
So it finally happened. Well, sort of. In the kind of way that happens to me. This Friday night I decided to make a detour from home and stop at my local Target. I had no agenda in mind, but soon had a shopping basket stuffed. I was nearby one of the check out lanes, and one of the employees started chatting me up. The dress, the shoes, the bag, Ohh gosh and the the Earrings!! Squeel!!!
Wait...was this my Hit? I soon let him know that I was not wearing my usual Target attire. I also let him know that I had just attended one of the nicest funeral services I had ever attended. He shares his condolences and I accept his apology.
Then the Hits just keep on a comin'. His opener: "You must have been the nicest person dressed at that funeral". Wait...what??? Here I Finally get my hit, and do I mention it's from someone that has sexually No interest in someone of my gender???
And you wonder why I call this little Blog,
This is My Life with Coffee:)