Coming to a slow realization …

I’m not sure, but I think I might be a little bit cute.

Evidence:

  1. That hot Costa Rican guy at El Covento Rico.  Problem: Closer inspection of the photos from that night reveal a significant amount of visible cleave.  Therefore, as proof of my cuteness, Mr. Costa Rica 2007 is unfortunately, inconclusive.  Everyone seems cute with their boobs hanging out.
  2. That guy who picked up all my groceries and sacrificed his own grocery bag when mine spontaneously destroyed itself thus blanketing a busy intersection with cat food, cereal and a billion containers of yogurt.  Problem: At the time, the light was changing and I was literally kicking the bag of cat food across the street in frustration – Save yourselves, Yogurts, my cats need to eat! – when this dude came along. Maybe it just seemed like the right thing to do.  So, as proof of my cuteness, Grocery Bag Guy is again, inconclusive.

One and two may not prove conclusive on their own, but I feel like I’ve got a bit of a case for cuteness if I put them together.  They remind me of that episode of Scrubs where Carla is feeling really crumby because as soon as she became engaged to Turk, all male attention came to a screeching halt.  She began experimenting with her wedding ring.  On: No attention.  Off: Ding-ding!  Attention!  Fine, "that’s TV-Land" you might say, but all I’m saying is this: Did you ever hear me telling stories about hot Costa Ricans and strange dudes picking up my groceries when I was married?

The real evidence, Point #3:

(drum roll)

Friday night as I was entering the subway station, on my way for celebratory, "Hey I filed for divorce today" drinks, some guy who was exiting through the turnstiles as I approached jumps out in front of me, blocking my path.  He’s holding up his hand at me in a, "Stop!" kind of way and I’m giving him the dirtiest look.  Sheer, "What the fuck is your problem?"  Even so, what does this guy do?  He pulls out his Metropass and swipes it through so I can go in for free. 

Completely taken aback, all I do is grin stupidly, say, "Thanks!" and go in.  I wanted to engage this guy somehow, really I did, and I think, that was what he wanted me to do?  But there’s me, completely frozen, as usual.  How much more blatantly frigging obvious do I need somebody to be?!  The guy was cute.  I was actually going out for drinks. Would it have really been so difficult to say, "Hey, why don’t you come along?"  Twenty minutes later, I met up with Fahrin who upon hearing this story reacted with a clear and concise: You need to get your vocab on, girl.

Tell me about it.  Gah.

One thought on “Coming to a slow realization …

  1. Ha!
    Or don’t you just love it when someone actually flirts with you and you don’t realize it for what it is until someone ELSE has to come up to you later and has to explain it to you, and you’re all “Wha…?”
    Like, when did I get all out of practice with this stuff?
    You are too cute.

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