I think I love you! So what am I so afraid of?
Dear Total Stranger in the Black Range Rover:
Hey there, sexy. I couldn't help but notice you today. I feel like there's a real connection between us. I know you feel it too. I could tell when you drove past me in the Byerly's parking lot and shyly bellowed, "Nice tits!"
I have to admit I was somewhat taken aback to hear such sweet nothings shouted at me in a grocery store parking lot at 6:30 on a Tuesday night. Byerly's tends to cater to a more family-friendly crowd, but the way you took advantage of what can only be described as a serendipitous moment by loudly approving of my anatomy tells me that you, sir, are a hopeless romantic.
I like that in a man.
I thought this was the end of our all-too-brief interlude. I couldn't believe my luck when instead of exiting the parking lot altogether, you actually turned into the next row of cars and looped back, this time waxing poetic with, "Your legs are fucking awesome!" before rolling to a stop so you could wait while I got into my car, backed out of my space, and headed out.
It was so flattering when you pulled up behind me. I know it seems I didn't spend nearly enough time staring lovingly into your eyes through my rear view mirror, but a girl can't appear too eager or where's the thrill of the chase? And clearly you're a man who enjoys the thrill of the chase! Yes, I said man. I was delighted to see you weren't a kid in daddy's SUV showing off for his friends! You were in your late 30's and curiously alone in your Range Rover, sporting adorable black sunglasses and a crisp white long-sleeved Polo shirt. Whatever did I do to deserve you?
I was so excited about our burgeoning romance that I ignored the Stop sign at Portland and swung out into the road without the slightest pause. I've always viewed Stop signs as more of a suggestion than a rule. If they were serious about making us stop, they'd install a light. Most people disagree with this theory, but not you. You jumped into traffic and cut off that Volkswagon the way only a man crazy in love could. When you suffered the brutal bleats of the VW's horn just so you could keep up with me, I had butterflies.
Our whirlwind affair really meant something to me, but maybe I should have done more to show what I felt than pick up my cell phone and dial the first person who popped up on my contacts list. Anne didn't even answer her phone, but as I was leaving her a voice mail - all about my undying love for you and you alone, baby - you abruptly switched lanes and honked your horn repeatedly to get my attention, waving and grinning like a retarded kid at the back of the short bus as I turned left on 42 and you continued down Portland.
You know what I think, Total Retarded Stranger in the Black Range Rover? I think it's bullshit, what they say about it being better to have loved and lost than never to have loved at all. Bullshit!
Yours forever,
Byerly's Shopper
xoxoxo
Hey there, sexy. I couldn't help but notice you today. I feel like there's a real connection between us. I know you feel it too. I could tell when you drove past me in the Byerly's parking lot and shyly bellowed, "Nice tits!"
I have to admit I was somewhat taken aback to hear such sweet nothings shouted at me in a grocery store parking lot at 6:30 on a Tuesday night. Byerly's tends to cater to a more family-friendly crowd, but the way you took advantage of what can only be described as a serendipitous moment by loudly approving of my anatomy tells me that you, sir, are a hopeless romantic.
I like that in a man.
I thought this was the end of our all-too-brief interlude. I couldn't believe my luck when instead of exiting the parking lot altogether, you actually turned into the next row of cars and looped back, this time waxing poetic with, "Your legs are fucking awesome!" before rolling to a stop so you could wait while I got into my car, backed out of my space, and headed out.
It was so flattering when you pulled up behind me. I know it seems I didn't spend nearly enough time staring lovingly into your eyes through my rear view mirror, but a girl can't appear too eager or where's the thrill of the chase? And clearly you're a man who enjoys the thrill of the chase! Yes, I said man. I was delighted to see you weren't a kid in daddy's SUV showing off for his friends! You were in your late 30's and curiously alone in your Range Rover, sporting adorable black sunglasses and a crisp white long-sleeved Polo shirt. Whatever did I do to deserve you?
I was so excited about our burgeoning romance that I ignored the Stop sign at Portland and swung out into the road without the slightest pause. I've always viewed Stop signs as more of a suggestion than a rule. If they were serious about making us stop, they'd install a light. Most people disagree with this theory, but not you. You jumped into traffic and cut off that Volkswagon the way only a man crazy in love could. When you suffered the brutal bleats of the VW's horn just so you could keep up with me, I had butterflies.
Our whirlwind affair really meant something to me, but maybe I should have done more to show what I felt than pick up my cell phone and dial the first person who popped up on my contacts list. Anne didn't even answer her phone, but as I was leaving her a voice mail - all about my undying love for you and you alone, baby - you abruptly switched lanes and honked your horn repeatedly to get my attention, waving and grinning like a retarded kid at the back of the short bus as I turned left on 42 and you continued down Portland.
You know what I think, Total Retarded Stranger in the Black Range Rover? I think it's bullshit, what they say about it being better to have loved and lost than never to have loved at all. Bullshit!
Yours forever,
Byerly's Shopper
xoxoxo
posted by Jen @ 10:57 PM
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