I left off with my escape to the beauty aisles under the pretense that he wasn’t going to follow and be seen pacing the main aisle in front of the beauty department aisles. And lets be honest, I was in the makeup aisle looking at Almay products and wishing they hadn’t discontinued their spa line. I loved the Lemongrass and Mint scented body spray and body cream they had. LOVED IT! I can’t find anything that even compares.
I digress.
So, the guy has followed, and rather than pace the main aisle, he’s pacing around the aisle I’m in. And frankly, I’m starting to get a little paranoid because this sort of stuff just reminds me of old movies about what high school was like. I have no experience with high school dating because I didn’t date in high school. Frankly, I didn’t interact at all in high school given the fact I was painfully shy. PAINFULLY. I basically didn’t talk to anyone in high school. I walked to and from most classes alone. I ate lunch with some girls who I’d went to middle school with, or who had similar interests but I wouldn’t say we were friends. Acquaintances? I account all of these “Dating Whoa’s” to my blooming after high school and the fracas that has caused. I mean really. Boobs are seriously the coolest thing, but at the same time such a hassle. Pain in the ass to have to walk away from conversations because a guy can’t maintain eye contact. Sheesh!
After about 4 laps around the aisles the guy must have gotten the courage up to walk down the aisle I was browsing. I catch him enter the aisle out of the corner of my eye and I’m waiting for the knife to appear. I’m actually contemplating reaching into my jacket pocket to grab the can of pepper spray my grandpa insists I carry. Insists isn’t the right worry. He basically makes sure every jacket I have has a mini can of pepper spray in a pocket. He checks. And gets mad if I show up at the house with a jacket that doesn’t have a can of pepper spray in the pocket. He bought the stuff in cases. I kid you not.Anyway, guy ends up walking past me and out of the aisle and I no longer hear him pacing the other aisles, so I figure I’m in the clear.
Ten seconds later he’s back in the aisle, hand outstretched to shake and blurts out “Wanna go on a date?” All I can do is stammer out a “Are you kidding?” as I look at him like he’s just been discharged from the state mental hospital. “No…You look like an outdoorsy kinda girl”. HUH? I’m wearing a ball cap, soft shell fishing jacket and a pair of Salomon running shoes. Guess that makes me look outdoorsy. I end up getting his number because he mentioned something about taking me fly fishing, and I’m a sucker for a fly fishing date. Okay so I really am an “outdoorsy kinda gal”, but honestly I’m screwed if that’s the first impression I give off. Again, that question of “What vibe am I sending out?” comes into play.
I texted him once. Just to give him a chance.
Haven’t heard anything.
I’m pretty certain he was stoned. Out. Of. His. Mind.
Clues to this conclusion include. Shifty eyes. Slow speech. Shaggy boy hair. Sorry to all the shaggy haired boys out there, but this is just my conclusion from my extensive experience. And various date proposals while sharing a chair on the ski lift with guys who smoke the weed while riding up the hill. Oh, and his use of a knitted ski cap. Stand in for a beanie?
*sigh*
Have a Mini Skirt of a Day!
Jenny
