So on Saturdays I work at a certain super market (you know I won’t say which one since I don’t even use Foursquare because I think it’s a tool for potential stalkers) sampling wine for a promotional company. Now, I’m not bragging or anything but I do get hit on by my fair share of AARP members, though usually not from guys any where near my own age. That all changed the other day…
So Paulie and his friends came to my table to sample some wine, and ended up inviting me to a bonfire at his house. And, you know, maybe I would have gone if there wasn’t such a distinct possibility of me being found in the bonfire 6 days later, with only my dental records as a means to identify my body. (That is generally how I rate potential suitors, by the likelihood of them murdering me. It’s a scale of 1 to Joran Vandersloot. I would say this guy was like a 6 for murder but a solid 8 for molestation. I don’t like to hover anywhere past a 4).
So, I kinda just stood there and made some awkward sounds and half sentences like “ohhh I uhhhh, not a big fan of… smoke… and fire…. and.. I meaaan” until he finally walked away. Then about five minutes later this was slipped onto my table accompanied by an “in case you change your mind:”
You know, I wasn’t going to call you, Paulie, but your enchanting drawing swayed me.
I’m kidding. That only upped his murder status to a 9 and his date rape potential to “NBA Player.”
Now, I hesitated to post this because it could potentially come off as mean-spirited, but there’s no way a guy named ‘Paulie’ reads this blog, and in general, my personal feelings on being made fun of is as long as I never, ever find out about it, you can say what you want- it never happened. It’s like ‘if a tree falls in the forest and no one is there to hear…’ type situation (Something you should know about me is I never like to finish the second half of a cliche).
But, hey, God bless him for having the courage to accompany his phone number with an illustration. Paulie, if you’re reading this, I’m flattered.