Two guy related things happened at work today.
1. A guy asked me for some advice on audio books. And he kept me chatting for like twenty minutes. At first I thought he was just a really indecisive shopper but then he kept sharing all these personal things. And then he kept asking what my normal work hours are so if he had any other questions, he could come back.
2. A second guy asked me about two books. The first was something like the Tibetan Book of the Dead (maybe) and the second was Sherman Alexie's Absolutely True Story of a Part-time Indian. I ordered the second book for him as we did not have it in stock. He gave me his phone number to enter into the order screen. "Now you have my phone number." And then a little later when I was on the other side of the store he asked, "Are you going to call when the book comes in?" -Yes, someone will call you. "No, are you going to call?" And then he winked at me.
Now, neither of these guys could have been at all interested in anything other than purchasing some books. I have no idea. Because I also never know when guys are actually interested in me. It usually takes someone else pointing it out or years later them saying "Back then I wanted to ask you out."
I may have almost perfect gay-dar. I may be able to spot a horrible "wearing socks with sandals" combo at a 100 yards. But my ability to recognize flirting is worse than listening to George Bush try to pronounce nuclear. It is better to just give up and let it slide.
At work, I am like a business casual Kurt Cobain. My clothes don't match and they look a little thrift store-ish. I also could use a good shampoo and maybe every now and then I could smile. Maybe. The only thing I have going for me is that sometime I sound smart and every now and then, I'm pretty funny.
Sometimes when I'm talking to guys, I get really awkward and frustrated and have an overwhelming urge to tell them I'm a lesbian. I just want to blurt it out like some sort of sexual Tourettes. I think this goes into my whole theory on willful self-sabotage.
Not that it maters anyway. Guy number one didn't like fiction. (What? What? Who doesn't like fiction.) And he was a little, sort of maybe, religious. And he didn't like David Sedaris. Boo.
And guy number two was in the hazy age bracket of being possibly closer in age to my parents than me. Plus he was chewing a peppermint and I was seriously worried for his teeth enamel. And who winks?
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