Wednesday, July 25, 2007
(He approached me.)
HIM: So what do you do?
I'm a reporter. What do you... (He interrupted)
HIM: How long you been there for?
Four yea.. (He interrupted again.)
HIM: Six months?
(Ouch, I thought).
No FOUR years.
HIM: Years, huh? I thought you were 22.
(Ouch again. No wait! now that I'm 26 that's a compliment).
Add four years.
HIM: Oh, wow.
HIM: So ahhh... I see you're not married. (Oh man) Are you seeing anyone?
Yes, I am.
HIM: Well, I'm a nice guy, and I'd love to date a beautiful girl like you, so keep that in mind.
(I glanced up at his head of white hair.)
(OK? Who says OK?)
Truth be told, I am a DENY-A-LATER. I lack compassion when someone asks me out on a date. It's like a reflex. Instead of blushing, the room spins, my eyes cloud, and all I can do is my signature nervous laugh.
Once, at a bar, I practically yelled "NO" and fled.
Why can't I spit out "I'm flattered" or "thank you"?
It makes one sorta miss those amateurish notes, where one could easily turn down a suitor with the swift stroke of a pen!
Posted by sarah at 11:38 AM