Sometimes people love me. I don't know why. I'm not exactly always lovable. Truth be told I'm not exactly always even tolerable.
I've been told by more than one man that I am a "hand full" and I'm reasonably sure they did not mean that in a nice way.
Despite all that, once every decade or so I've been fortunate enough to have a man or two fall in crazy love with me. Sometimes they have recently suffered a head injury, sometimes they have tremendous mommy issues and are looking to work through them by having me do their laundry and yell at them to put the seat down and of course sometimes, they are simply so drunk they can't taste the roofie in their beer.
Sadly the older and more married I become, the fewer the number of men who are spontaneously falling at my feet... unless it's directly related to sudden hip breakage. Even though I know a husband in the hand is worth two in the bush, I'm still an insecure girl at heart and I admit I frequently feel old and ugly.
Once in a while I have what I'm saying is a very honest human need to reassure myself by trying to turn a man's head. (That made me sound like I'm a ninety-five year old grandma who thinks men can't resist me when I roll my stockings down around my ankles and put my teeth in.)
A week or so ago a guy I've never met came into my office for a reason I never really figured out. I think he was selling encyclopedias or babies or something. He was in his thirties I would guess and was dressed professionally. Slacks, tie, clean underwear, wing tips.
I like wing tips.
Anyway, he was pretty and I was feeling sort of exceptionally ugly and old that day, so I did what all good Southern girls do when we want to capture a man's attention. I cranked up the accent to somewhere between Scarlett O'Hara and Sling Blade and batted my eyes so hard a little wind picked up and blew his hair back.
It immediately worked. (The eye batting, not the roofie.)He puffed up his chest and we shared a very intimate moment.
"Whatcha doing?" he asked.
"Whatcha working on?"
"Where you doing stuff? You doing stuff back there (gesturing to my office), or you doing stuff up here (reception area)?"
Sure he was handsome, but it was his intellect that captivated me.
"Back there." By now I was literally twirling my hair like a ten-year-old girl and giggling so hard it occurred to me I might pee if I didn't tone it down a little.
As I stood there looking deep into the eyes of a complete stranger who had just used the word awesome in an effort to woo me, I wondered what the odds were that he had awakened this morning feeling bloated and was on the prowl for someone to make him feel pretty for a minute.
Do men do that, too? You think they stand in front of the mirror pulling their face back behind their ears so they can see how they'd look if they had a face lift?
Is it possible they sometimes push their boobs together and ask their wife if they'd look better if they had them done? Could it be that men are more like women than women have ever thought they might be?
Maybe this chance encounter with this random guy wasn't so much chance as it was meant to teach me that even though I sometimes feel unloved and ugly, everyone feels that way from time to time and it will pass. I've always believed that everyone who crosses our path is put there to teach us something and so maybe this man was teaching me that it doesn't matter so much what I look like on the outside so long as I am a good person on the inside.
Nah. He was just a perv used baby salesman looking for a good time.
Lord help me, I do love him awful.
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