Men have a desire to do their job. I get that. They need to feel powerful. They need to pursue, caputure, and conquer. They like the chase, and with that comes chasing those who aren’t available to be caught.
Which includes me, apparently.
It seems that my stone-cold, don’t-you-even-attempt-to-imagine-me-naked attitude is no longer working. Rather, the untouchable vibe is telling men of all shapes and sizes and marital statuses that I really do want them and it is, in fact, opposite day.
And this, despite the ring on my left hand that is supposed to signal “married” to them (a lie) and “safe from all harm” to me (also a lie).
The latest of these unwelcome episodes takes the biggest and ugliest of all creepy cakes. This man–let’s call him Dick, so we can eliminate an obscene amount of pronouns–was short (in height), gray (in hair), and too tan (for even having spent a six-month stint in Aruba). Both his ears wore a dime-sized silver hoop, his wrinkled skin wore a leather resemblance, and his geriatric eyesight wore smart black frames that I actually did find cute.
Dick hurried out of the dressing room, sans shoes, with his shirt pulled up around his chest and his beer belly exposed. He was trying on a pair of our easy-fit jeans. He stopped in front of melike a man who has reached the subject of his conquest. Oh wait, he had.
“I guess these pants are too big. Do you have anythig smaller?” Dick asked, holding the waistband away from his body to emphasize the hugeness of the pants. His eyes kept flitting from me to the gap between the pants and his crinkled stomach flab. Not being one to turn down a good eye-flit, even from the king of all disgustingtons, I glanced down and noticed a solid chunk of lint in his belly button.
Giggling, and completely grossed out, I backed away from him to avoid the view and assumed a perfect customer-service stance. “Well, what size are those? I can find the next size down if you’d like.”
Dick took a few seductive steps toward me, his stomach (and more) still exposed. “That would be great. Really.“
I tossed him some new pairs of pants to try on and rushed him back to the fitting room. “Maybe one of these will work for you.”
“Oh yes, let’s hope one of these fits much tighter,” Dick emphasized with an overexaggerated wink in my direction.
Finally finding some pants that fit, Dick continued to spread his charm at the cash register. Letting me know he’s single, available, and comes with children, I barely managed to get him out the door before digging a hole and burying myself in it.