Wednesday, November 17, 2010

Guys, Guys, and More Guys

So yesterday, I had an interview. I also had to meet someone at Panera Bread hours before the interview. I was all dressed up in my interview clothes: my sleek red sweater, my suave grayish slacks, my black heels. I also felt like I was puttin’ myself out there a little bit. I’m not used to dressing up. I don’t wear heels very often. I’m a flip-flop, tennishoe kinda person. I’m the type that sees Amy Adams traipsing all over Ireland in five-inch heels and thinks, “What’s wrong with you?!” (Curious? Watch Leap Year. There’s a lovely, hot guy in it.)

I’m leaving Panera Bread, and out of the corner of my eye, I see this guy wearing a bookbag standing outside. I don’t really think much of it. I get in my car and am about to pull out of the parking lot, when I see this guy standing about three feet away on the driver’s side of my car. He’s kind of waving, trying to get my attention. Feeling a bit creeped out, I roll my window down about two inches. Part of me wonders if I’m about to be robbed, but I don’t want to be rude.

“Do you have a dollar or two you could spare?” he asks me.

I know I don’t have any cash on me, but I look anyway. “Sorry,” I say.

“Oh, alright. It’s okay,” he says. He’s actually pretty attractive looking. Not the type of person I would think of asking for money in a parking lot…

“Are you okay?” I ask.

“Yeah,” he says, as if it’s weird that I should ask that. “Love and peace,” he says as I pull out and drive away.


Next, I go to Barnes and Noble. A friend told me about a book there I should check out about how to ace a job interview. I take the book to the café area and sit at a table to skim through the book.

As I’m reading, another guy kind of walks past my table and sort of looks over at me. He finally decides to sit at the table right next to mine. Even though there are a lot of other empty tables. So he starts taking books out of his book bag, and while I’m trying to concentrate, I notice that he keeps glancing over at me every several minutes.

Nothing happens. Maybe this is a lame story. But I’m not used to people looking at me twice. I just thought it was strange. I guess that’s what I get when I try to look nice. Or at least, nicer.


I don’t even know why I’m writing about this one. I was at Wal-mart this morning and I was pushing my cart toward a check-out lane. I saw this other guy walking toward the same one. He had less stuff than me so I was walking slowly so that he could go first. He was kind of scruffy looking in a hot, lumberjack kind of way. Or maybe I didn’t get a good look at him. But I think I did. I was inexplicably nervous because he let me go in front of him, and I felt strangely self-conscious all of a sudden, and I don’t think I looked at him again, and then, of course, I must have been more flustered than I realized because when I got home I realized I left one of my bags there.

Go figure.

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