Well, That Sucks

I honestly can't remember the last time I had an actual crush on an actual guy. I've had plenty of celebrity  crushes, sure, but I haven't met a guy in a long time that I really fell for, you know. And, that was something that I was kind of proud of; I felt like... I don't know... like I was safe. I can't explain it. If I don't crush on some guy, I can't break my own heart because he doesn't know I exist.

Anyway, I goofed.

Remember the nerd squad from my Milton class? Well, I've had a particular thing for one of them since the beginning of the semester, but I didn't really think about it. Sure, I thought he was the cutest. Sure, I'd daydream about him sometimes. Sure, I listened to what he was saying. Sure, I wanted him to notice me. But it wasn't anything more than a slight attraction. Right?

Nope. I realized yesterday when I caught myself really wanting to tell E---- all about him that it was a full blown crush.

Worse, the semester is almost over. Meaning that after the second week of December, I'll probably never see him again. Which sucks. Because I really like him. Ugh. Why did I decide to grow feeling now?

So, I admit that I have a crush on M----, and that I foresee myself needing ice cream to recover. But hey, maybe I'll get lucky. Maybe I'll get the guy for once. Haha. That's so unlikely I can't type it with a straight face. I'll let you know when I start my therapy session with Doctors Ben and Jerry. 

Why do guys suck at communicating?

Tonight, I got a message from a guy on OKC. It was all totally grammatically incorrect, but the English translation was basically he thought I was cute, wanted to talk, and he had just come home from a tour in Afghanistan a few days ago, so his profile was lacking.

So, I responded that I was doing well, getting ready for vacation, welcomed him home, and asked if he was glad to be home.

He responded that he was really glad. Period. That was it.

I waited a while, decided I'd just let it go, then, decided it would be rude not to respond. So, then I asked what he planed to do now that he's back.

Relax. As much as possible. That was his response.

How am I supposed to respond to that? Oh, well, that's nice? Do guys not know that you have to give the other person something to go on?

I mean, it would be one thing if I had contacted him first, and he was just responding to be polite, but, no, he started it! So, why did he act like it was a burden, and a boring one, to talk to me?

If you want to talk to me, fine. If you don't, then don't start a conversation. I'm not going to chase someone, or beg them to talk to me. I want a relationship, but I'm not desperate. I've got too much pride for that.

Warning: Angry Word Vomit

I have nothing to share.

Sorry. What can I say? 

My parents are getting divorced. I think I just broke up with one of my friends because I can't deal with the kind of maintenance the relationships requires. I have to write a gajillion papers. Money is tighter than a hipster's pants. I work 950 hours a week.

So, please, tell me when I'm supposed to be looking for Mr. Right? Hell, when am I supposed to look for Mr. Right-Now?

I guess, really, what I'm saying is this: if one more person tells me that I need to put more effort into finding a boyfriend right now in my life, I'm going to go ape-shit.

Yes, I'm single. Yes, I would love to have someone who cares for and supports me that I can, in turn, care for and support. But you know what? That doesn't just jump out of the bushes when you walk down the street. It takes looking to find a guy worth the effort, and right now, time is what I just don't have.

I'm not giving up, my eyes are still peeled. I just needed to vent that because I hate the way people who have never in their lives been totally single with no one at all interested in them think they can tell me (and people like me) that we should just get significant others. As though we can go to Target and pick one up. 

They're people. Not tampons. He has to like me. And I have to like him. It doesn't work one-way. I like Adam Levine. He's not my boyfriend. See how that works?

Oh, and if I happen to be ringing a cute guy up, I don't need anyone standing over my shoulder watching ("helping") so they can tell me what I did wrong. I don't need anyone telling me that I let my future walk out the door, or that he drove away in a BMW with an UoAlabama Alumni tag on it. 

Honestly, yeah, he was cute, but U------ stood there and starred at me, so I already felt super uncomfortable. Then, while he was actually checking out, he didn't make eye contact with me. Not once. That's rude. So, I don't are how many nice cars or degrees he has, if he can't treat a cashier like a person, then I'm in no way interested. 

So, there it is: my super explosion. If you read the whole thing, you should get a cookie. I apologize. I'll go back to just noting random hot guys now.

(Not so) Random Cute Guy(s) Sighting: Nerd Squad Edition

This semester I'm taking a 400 level class on Milton, and there are a couple of really cute super nerds in my class. It's a really small class, so we all talk before class begins, and everyone always says something to the effect of "I really don't want to be here." But, for me, I'm happy to be there because the Nerd Squad is adorable!

There's M----, the tat'ed, pierced, cool-looking guy who studies Latin and philosophy.
There's S---, the adorable dork who seems like he would hold your hand and do cute couple-y stuff without being forced.
There's L----, the ironically hip, quiet guy who is really entertaining when he speaks.
And, there's M---, the sincerely intelligent, average guy.

I don't actually know any of their relationship statuses, but they like Supernatural, Doctor Who, Syfy, and Paradise Lost. So, basically, they're all boyfriend material. Which probably means they're all very, extremely taken.

Also, I sincerely hope (though it's highly unlikely) that if any of them were to see this, they would be flattered and not creeped out.

Shoutout to the Couple with the Lovely Wedding Party

Happy one week anniversary to the couple who got married on August 17, and had a lovely weeding party.

First, one of the bridesmaids came in wearing her bridesmaid dress. While it wasn't to my personal taste, it was pretty, and she looked pretty in it. She was buying condoms because the bride had forgotten to during the pre-wedding shopping trip. That cracked J---- and me up, so we laughed with her and told her to have fun and wish them luck.

Then, maybe fifteen minutes later, the groomsmen all came in looking sharp in their three-piece suits. I think men should always dress like that, because a nice suit makes guys who are just so-so look suddenly sexy. On top of all being cute, they were pleasant and funny.

My favorite was the one worried about the wrinkles in his suit coat. He was the last one out, and the cutest. I told him nobody would be looking at the groomsmen, that they were just there to take up space and keep the groom from bolting, which was funny because I couldn't stop looking at them. Then, we talked about how best he might be able to mix the Coke Zero he was buying with some Jack and sneak it into the wedding. He laughed and joked along, so he gets points for pretending I was witty.

Anyway, congratulations to the happy couple, your friends were really entertaining!

Random Cute Guy Sighting

There's a HEMSI driver that has come in at work to buy a snack on his break a couple of times in the last week or so, and he's a cutie. He's got a sweet smile and a good sense of humor. Just thought you should know.

For the Very First Time

Friday night, for the very first time, I felt like maybe a guy regretted not getting me when he had the chance.

I was at work (when am I not?), and I looked up and saw a guy I recognized from high school, so I said to J----, "Look, I went to high school with that guy," with the intent to fill her in on his reputation for being a druggie after he walked out.

Then, I saw the guy who was with him. J---- (the second guy) had been walking behind C----, so I hadn't seen him at first. You need some background on J----. He also went to high school with us, but he was a couple years older than me. I knew and liked him then because we were in the drama club (Thespian Society) together, and he was really funny. But then, as now, he was sort of in a different subclass than I was and am. Then, he was a wild, super outgoing guy who had a reputation for drinking and doing pot, and I was a quiet, band-geek/drama-nerd, teacher's daughter with a smart mouth if you were standing close enough to hear me. So, we ran in totally different circles.

Anyway, I looked up and saw him, and smiled because I recognized him, and told them both to have a good night. C---- didn't even look at me, but J---- smiled and said, "You, too." Then, he actually looked at me and kind of stopped. He smiled and kept walking, but then when he got past the inner door, he stopped again, and looked back at me. I made eye contact and grinned because I knew he was trying to place who I was in my head.

I guess something clicked, because he got this great big grin on his face, and came back though the door. He said, "Hey, fellow Thespian!" I said hey back, and walked over to where he had stopped by the door that leads behind the counter.

When I stopped in front of him, his eyes when up and down me, and his pupils dilated a little. He gave me an awkward sort of compliment, and the accompanying gesture was one that led me to believe he was really thinking about what it would be like to put his hands on me. Then, he said, "I recognized your voice while I was back there," gesturing toward the pharmacy. "I just heard a familiar voice, and then here you were."

Now, I don't know if that was actually true or not, but I do know that I have a fairly memorable voice, so I won't call bullshit on it.

Then, he said, "I don't know if you want to hug me or not, I been doing some scuzzy work..." He kind of held his arms out and shrugged.

He did look dirty, but I smiled, told him I didn't care, and hugged him. One-armed, but chest-to-chest. I'm lead by some magazine articles to believe that that is a significant detail.

It was a quick hug, and he didn't grope me, or anything. Then, he told me to have a good night and weekend, kind of awkwardly, like he would have liked to stay longer, but C---- had gone outside before J---- had even stopped to talk. But he was looking back the whole time he was walking out.

And I ate it up! I loved the way he looked at me liked something he wanted made me feel. I felt sexy in a way I never have before. And, to be quite honest, even though I'm about 98% sure he was buying Sudafed with which to manufacture meth, I can't say that I would have said no. I mean, I don't think I would have slept with him, but in the mood I was in after the week I had, I definitely wouldn't have turned down a mauling. Hey, he's still a bad boy, and I'm still young enough to want to try that, maybe.

So, that's the story of how I entertained the thought of a torrid make-out session with a druggie. So much for having standards.

Crush-worthy Guy Alert

There's this guy that has a PO Box at the Post Office station in our store, and I think I could really be in danger of having an actual crush on him. He's young, probably late twenties, and nice looking. His hands are rough and usually dirty from work, He owns his own landscaping business. And on top of owning a fairly successful business of his own, he comes from money, so my inner gold-digger is intrigued. Beyond that, though, he seems like a really nice, down-to-earth kind of guy. He's polite and always speaks when he sees one of us that work in the store.

Unfortunately, I've got no idea how to get him talking. I know that once he gets started, getting him to stop is a chore, but I can't get a conversation going. So, I guess I'll just settle for smiling at him everyday and giving him his change. Mine is a pathetic way of life.

A Funny Thing Happened on the Way Home From the Beach

This is the last story I need to relate about my beach trip. After this, I'll speak of it no more. Maybe. :)

A--- and I drove down in my car (read: I drove, A--- rode) so that there were two cars with us at the beach, and so that I did not have to ride in the car with C------ for six hours. So, naturally, A--- and I came back together.

We decided we were hungry around normal people lunch time, found an exit with several options, and pulled into a Burger King. Our meal was fine, nothing out of the ordinary. I was so hungry that it didn't even matter that I don't like Burger King.

Anyway, we filled up our cups for the road, and walked out into the witheringly hot afternoon. Two BK employees were standing by the door taking a smoke break. One of them started talking to us. He asked how we were, and we said fine. He asked if we were from there, where ever there was, and we said no, so he asked where we were from. I told him Huntsville as I dropped my purse while trying to fish my keys out of it.

"Oh, yeah, up Madison County. Huntsvegas!"

That made me stop and look up because I've never heard anyone not from HSV or the surrounding area call it Huntsvegas. I asked if he was from here, and he said no, but he had some friends up here.

Finally, I got my hands on my keys and the doors unlocked. As we were ducking into the car, the guy said, "So, uh, can I get a phone number, so I can holler at ya when I'm up there?"

A--- slid into the car, and I smiled and said, "Sorry, no."

When I got in, she was laughing. "I wonder if they know their employees are in the parking lot harassing customers on their break."

"We should go through the drive through and tell them," I laughed as we pulled off with the guy still watching us.

So, it's not true that I never get hit on. It is true that I never get hit on by guys that I would actually date.

Love Connection via DrawSomething?

While we were at the beach, A---, B----, C------ (whom I still don't like and hope never to have to deal with again), and I spent a collective total of almost $200 on booze. By Friday night, we had gone through most of it, but still had plenty to fuel one more drunken evening.

A couple hours in, A--- remembered that she had been playing DrawSomething with one of her other friends... two weeks ago. So, she started playing on her phone. One of her opponents told her that she was cute, and she told him she was drunk, so, of course they started flirting.

I'm not sure how long they flirted because my evening ended about an hour earlier than everyone else's because I had to start my three hour long retching-vomiting-dying session.

Anyway, the next morning, while we were making breakfast (I didn't have a hangover mostly because after three hours of throwing up everything but my soul, that would have been karmic-ly unjust), A--- remembered her drunken flirtation, and that he had given her his email.

So, of course, she searched the email on Facebook.

Turns out, he's married. With kids. Classy.

But props to A--- for her close brush with cyber-age romance.

The Second First Date

Well, my date with R----- was... nice? He was sweet and cute, but there wasn't a lot of connection there, maybe. Or maybe we were both nervous and incapable of holding conversation.

We had agreed to meet at BridgeStreet which is this sort of classy outdoor mall with European style architecture (it's really pretentious, now that I think about it.) at 4 on Wednesday. So, of course, it was storming at 4 on Wednesday. He brought an umbrella, though, and proceeded to hold it over both of us any time we were outside.

Dinner was ok. We ate at Red Robin, and talked awkwardly about our jobs, what we think of the area, and sports. He works logistics for the army, thinks HSV is a kind of boring city made up of mostly married people, and loves baseball and thinks hockey's boring. I work retail, think HSV is boring as hell no matter what your relationship status is, and freaking love hockey and hate baseball with an unnatural passion. Also, he is Puerto Rican, which is really neither here nor there for me on the attractiveness scale, but it reminded me of FL, so it was nice to hear his accent.

After dinner, we checked the showtimes at the movie theatre, but nothing was showing until late. He mentioned renting a Redbox movie, but I stepped around that because he's a guy I met on the internet and know nothing about, like hell am I going to his house. So, we went to sit in the bookstore and talk. Would have been a great idea, except we had already talked about everything at dinner.

So, after another half hour of awkward conversation, he said that BridgeStreet was really boring, and I said that I should probably get home since there was a flash flood warning for the county I live in. It was true, the radio had said so before I met him, but there's always a flash flood warning for my county when it rains, so it was really no big deal. I was just totally out of things to talk about and a little tired of hearing about the clubs in different cities that he likes.

He texted me to make sure I got home safe and to say it was nice to meet me. Then, a few hours later, I got a text with a picture of him in it like the kind that guys put on dating sites, you know, of themselves in front of the bathroom mirror dressed well for no apparent reason. It was a group message, and I sent a question mark back because I had clue what that was for. He said that it sent itself, but it was a little odd.

After that, he hasn't made contact until today, he sent me a picture of the beach in Destin. But again, it's a group message that I'm was meant for me. How do I respond to that?

So, to sum up, he was sweet, nice, cute, and there wasn't anything really wrong with him, but I just don't think we clicked. It was still infinitely better than the date with S----, who has texted me several times since our "date." So, I'm hopeful. I mean, if the next date (whenever that may be) is infinitely better than my date with R-----, then, I'll probably end up married to maybe the fifth guy I ever go on a date with. That's assuming that the dates continue to track upward at a constant level, of course.

Putting Forth the Effort

I'm going to dye my hair. I've never done it before, and I'm a little nervous, but I want to try something new.

Right now, I get about as much attention from the opposite sex as a white crayon gets in a pre-school class. So, I want to change up my look. Not a crazy, drastic change, just a little, to hopefully give a subtle edge over my current game.

In addition, I have been trying (keyword) to put more effort into my daily appearance. Unfortunately, on morning that I open, that usually means I smooth my hair before I yank it up into a ponytail, and then I poke myself in the eyes with some mascara before I hide them behind my high-school era glasses. So, I've got a way to go, but I'm getting there. It would be nice if I didn't have to wear navy blue and khaki everyday, but I'll just have to deal with that.

On days that I don't go in until later, I usually do fairly well, my hair down and decent looking, make-up done-ish, contacts instead of glasses, but even then, it's a fairly low-maintenance routine. Also, it's so hot at work that I usually end up pulling my hair up once I get there, so that defeats the purpose. If I could just learn how to do some cute, casual up-dos, I'd be unstoppable.

Well, you know, as unstoppable as I'll ever be. Anyway, I can't wait to unveil my new 'do (probably sometime next week), but I think I'm not going to tell N----, U------, E----, A---, or B---- until I get it done. Maybe I won't tell anyone until I post the pics. We'll see...

Summertime!

Tomorrow is the official start of summer, which to me, generally means HSV is going to be hot as Hell and miserable, and that I hate Pennsylvania (it's kind of an inside joke having to do with the corporate offices of the company I work for and their lack of understanding of the concept of humidity).

But this year, I'm going to the beach with some friends (and one ex-friend), which brings up a whole new level of summertime misery: finding a swimsuit. 

Have you looked for a plus size swimsuit lately? They're damn hard to find online, and impossible to find in-store! How the hell am I supposed to go to the beach and show of my womanly curves when the fashion industry seems to want to pretend that women my size don't exist? Or worse, seem to think that we should hide our bodies like they're something to be ashamed of?

Now, I'll be the first to admit that I'm not totally comfortable with my body, and I will certainly not be rocking a bikini, but seriously, where can I find a cute suit at a decent price? And why is it so hard? 

It's looking like I'll be ordering a suit from Old Navy, unless I decide to buy bottoms from Old Navy and a tankini top from Target. Either way, I may need to take out a loan to afford swimwear. 

But, hey, maybe it'll be worth it, and I'll meet some super cute guy. 

Random Hot Guy Sighting

There's this guy that comes into work every now and then, and he is so hot. He's probably about 6 ft. tall with a muscled build, and he has has red, messy hair that I really just want to touch. He's also all tat'ed up, which is not normally a turn-on for me, but it works for him. Unfortunately, he doesn't say much, and doesn't seem that bright, but since he only gives me like three words to go on every time he's in, I could be wrong about that. Anyway, I just thought that you should know.

He got an "A" for effort...

I barely scored passing marks.

Last night, N---- and I were closing together, and at one point we were both on the register. It just worked out that the last guy in my line was cute. Not super cute, but cute in a guy-that-would-make-you-laugh kind of way. He was tall-ish, with blond hair, a cute smile, and a heather-grey t-shirt that said "My [Heart] Belongs to a Zombie" on it.

As I was checking him out, we made small talk (while N---- listened). He had just gotten off work, blah blah blah. It was nice, lots of smiles and eye contact and nervous laughter. Basically, it was flirting. As flirty as I can be, anyway.

When he left, N---- was waiting with a play-by-play. What I did right, what I did wrong. She liked the small talk. He was cute. His game was good. I did pretty well for a beginner. I should have asked where he worked. On and on.

Then, when I said "oh well" because there are no do-overs (I still haven't forgiven myself for the D----- incident), she said, "Uh, yeah there are. It's called another cute guy comes in and you talk to him."

Then, because N---- has some weird clairvoyance or something (seriously, she always schedules my off days on days when it rains!), another guy did come in. He wasn't as cute as the first guy, but still cute, and he was nice. We chatted, and then, I gave him his total, $6.66. He sort of made a joke about it, and I told him that where I used to work, one of the beers, if you bought it by itself, was $6.66. He said, "Did you work at, like, a gas station or something...?" I said, "No, I... well, I used to work in Disney World." He thought that was cool, and asked me couple of things about working there, so we ended up talking for probably five minutes. Which is a lot when you consider that I was just supposed to be ringing him up.

Unfortunately, for me, Sensei N---- wasn't around to grade my progress or give me pointers. But, in my self-assessment, I think I did pretty darn well. I mean, really, I chatted up two guys in one night. That's a lot when you consider I've never done that before, like ever.

I get points for trying, right?

A Little White Lie of Omission

I can not tell a lie. Well, I can. I'm actually pretty good at it, but that's beside the point.

Point being that I've omitted a small detail, mostly because it was utterly unimportant, but I feel a little guilty. The whole idea of this blog is to capture and share my thoughts on how stupid my (nonexistent) love life is, so if I don't share everything, then, I'm not fulfilling my purpose.

So, here it is: E---- almost found me a blind date.

She had a friend that knew someone, and she was really excited. She even made me give her a picture of me to send to her friend to show him. I don't know if my picture ever actually made it to this random man or not, but it is a damn good picture, if I do say so myself.

Anyway, the other day, she broke the bad news: he's 32.

Now, that gives me the opportunity to discuss my age policy.

• Ten years older is my age limit. Now, yes, I am 22 and BDG (Blind Date Guy) is 32, but just because the limit is ten years, that doesn't mean I'm actively searching for someone ten years older. In fact, I'm actively searching for someone 2-4 years older. The other issue is that at 32 a person (ideally) should be fairly settled into life. BDG is a manager at a hotel in Huntsville. So... that doesn't work for me.
• Born after October 20, 1989 is too young. I'm more strict about this one than the other one because I am not going to end up older than my husband unless I out-live him. That's just the way it is, because while I can't wait to call him "grandpa" when we're I'm middle-aged and he's looking fifty squarely in the eye (fifty is not all that old, it's just the standard joke birthday), I do not want to be the first one to hit old age.

Also, there's the maturity level issue. Someone ten years older than me is not going to have the generational outlook that someone nearer my age would, and I behave more maturely than someone younger than me (and pretty much anyone my age, too). I keep hoping that this will be less true (and matter less) as I get older, but so far, it hasn't.

Not to mention, when you hear about pretty much any man over thirty dating a girl under the age of about twenty-seven, you immediately assume she's a slut. At least, that's the prevalent opinion where I am currently living, and yes, I am that shallow that I care what people are saying about me. Anyone who says they don't is lying through her teeth to you and herself.

So, if I'm going to have the "significant age difference" speech with my parents, grandparents, friends, extended family, and every other nosy person in this little southern town, that guy better be a 9.5 or higher. And since that's seriously unlikely, not least of all because I'm not 9.5 compatible, I said probably not to the blind date set up.

First Major Expedition: Prepwork

As the name suggests, this blog is supposed to be about me chronicling my search for the elusive eligible bachelor. So, finally, I am in the process of planning an actual manhunting outing instead of just wandering through life hoping I trip over a great guy.

My co-workers E---- and N---- along with myself and possibly my friend, A---, will be going out for a night on the town next Friday. To most people, this sounds typical, boring, even, but you have to remember, I drink like once a year, maybe, and I go clubbing... umm, never. So, for me, the prospect of going out with the girls is exciting, verging on terrifying.

So, my first instructions were to find a suitable dress. I started my mission last Thursday in between my exams, and tried on a ton of dresses. The few that I deemed worthy of second opinions were photographed and sent to my sister and E----. That day, I think there was a total of three dresses.

Then, Saturday, K----, my sister, and I were planning to go to the art festival downtown, but first, I wanted to meet up with E---- and see if we could find a dress. We shopped, and shopped, and shopped; seriously, for hours all I did was try on dress after dress. E---- left no dress unturned. Until, finally, we were back to the store where I had found a dress that I really liked when I was looking on Thursday.

I tried it on for them, and what do you know? Both of them (plus N----, who was weighing in her opinion via text) agreed that was the dress. So, now, I have to figure out some shoes and jewelry.

That's the dress. So, anybody got any suggestions for shoes, jewelry, hair, or make-up? 

Promise to keep you up-to-date on this upcoming expedition!

I'll take that as a compliment...

Tonight at work, this woman in her forties came in, and I complimented her ring (it was really cool looking, and I get distracted by shiny things). She thanked me and started telling me about the ring she usually wore. Her friends told her to stop wearing it because it made people think she was married, and then she joked that that must be the reason why no one had asked her out in a while.

I told her I totally (yes, I did say totally, so what if I sound like a thirteen year-old, it's my life) understood, but that I never wear any rings.

She looked at me, a little confused and said, "Are you married?"

This, of course, made me laugh, and I told her, "No, I've just never been asked out."

I would have given anything to have a picture of her face when she said, "EVER!?"

Then, the one she made when I said, "Nope, never," was even better.

Then, she asked if I went out and did things, to which I replied that I don't "party," but I go to lots of sporting events (code for hockey games) and to the movies and out to eat and pretty much all over the place. Then, she asked, "What about friends from high school?" To which I replied, "They don't exist."

So, then, I got a well intention spiel about how love will happen when I'm not looking for it, blah, blah, blah...

But her total shock. It was priceless. And because it's my policy to take everything as a compliment unless even rose-tinted glasses can't make it a good thing, I'll take that one.

Maybe Work on the Approach a Little

Friday night, after the hockey game, the team stuck around to sign autographs. Now, my sister is an autograph fanatic, so she and her friend waited to get their team posters signed. My friend and I opted out of the autograph signings because if we actually meet them, they're real people, and it's more fun to imagine them than actually think of the real person.

So, while we waited for Kate and Lindsey, Anna and I walked around the park because it was a BEAUTIFUL night. There's a road that cuts the park in half, and we were walking along it about to head back to my car when this guy walks up behind us and says something really quick so neither of us understood him. We stepped off the sidewalk, thinking he wanted by, but he just kept standing there looking at us. Then, he said (mostly to his shoes), "I was wondering... if maybe.. you'd liketogooutfor dinner with... menmifrend."

Both of us were shocked, and immediately said, "No, thank you," as politely as we could. He said ok, and we parted ways, but it was so bizarre. He wasn't creepy, but the randomness of the situation made it creepy. We weren't sure whether he was asking us on a date, or soliciting us. Made for an amusing story, though.

So, kudos, dude, for actually walking up to a couple of girls and asking them out. Just work on that confidence level and the setting a little. You'll be unstoppable. :)

My Eyes Are Up Here

Every girl has dealt with it at some point. You're just minding your own business, and suddenly, you realize that some middle-aged, married man is ogling your boobs. So, here's my take on it.

I don't mind the staring, because as soon as I walk away I'm going to start talking about what a skeeze he was, and the more openly he does it, the funnier the story. That said, I don't stare at guys' neatly wrapped packages in public, and girls who do are called sluts by most people, so why is it ok for a man twice my age to stare at my chest? And, it's not just older men, it's the whole age spectrum from puberty on up. (Just to cover my ass, I'm aware that not every guy ogles women.)

Also, any guy I catch ogling is immediately in the red as far as attractiveness goes. Even the guys on my Unattainable list would become seriously less appealing because it's just tasteless.

My favorite story about this, though, is from when I was working in Disney World. My costume (uniform) was hideous and had an apron, so it didn't in any way accentuate my bust (which is rather large). I was running the register, and this boy (between ages 10-12) was ordering. My boobs were at eye level for him, and he never looked up from them. I was grinning, thinking about how I was going to tell my friends later, and then, the story got ten times better. His dad was staring at the exact same place his son was! It was priceless! It would have been a perfect internet meme.

So, in conclusion, fellas, feel free to keep staring... if that's as far as you ever want to get with a decent broad. And, ladies, laugh in their faces next time, and they'll be the ones embarrassed. Problem solved.