Sunday, November 18, 2012

Dear Woman Leaving Bed, Bath, and Beyond

You may remember me from last Wednesday night.  I was the tall Adonis with the shaved head walking into Bed, Bath and Beyond as you were walking out.  You were the attractive woman that gave me a look usually reserved for use by my ex girlfriends, or for Courtney Love when someone asks her to please stop singing and take a bath.  It was a look that combined confusion, disgust, and unearned abhorrence into a frothy and bitter stew, and for once, I didn't deserve it.  You seem to think that I had been hitting on you while I was out with another woman, and there are several reasons why that is not the case. 

Yes, I smiled at you and said "Hi, how are you doing?" and yes, I was walking in with my friend Cindyloo.  She is a lady, she is my friend, but she is not my ladyfriend.  In fact, she was a few steps ahead of me, partially because she walks like a caffeinated hummingbird, and partially because I was watching a woman on an elliptical in the gym next door.  I looked away from the wonder that is yoga pants, and there you were.  We both caught each other's eye, and as a matter of courtesy, I addressed you. There was no reason to stare at me, then look at Cindyloo, and then look back at me like I was a pervert. 

Perhaps it was my smile that alarmed you.  I agree, it can be unsettling, kind of like Moe from the Simpsons.  My eyes close, I only have a dimple on one side, and it looks forced because my face hates smiling.  In the same regard, even though you are probably attractive most of the time, you looked like Don Knotts giving birth when you gave me the stink eye.  See, it doesn't feel good to be called a gargoyle, does it?

The only other issue you could have had was how I greeted you.  I would grant you that it may have sounded like I was pouring on the charm, but I assure you, my natural speaking voice just happens to be that amazing.  I am a big hit with the middle aged women that call into my work, so I am sorry if my salutation made you feel like you were being nestled in a soft, baritone embrace.  It could not be helped. 

All of this being said, you were kind of cute, so now that you know what really happened, you can meet me at the restaurant around the corner from the old B, B, and B next Tuesday.  I will be the one yelling at the server named Ryan, because he was worthless and doesn't understand what "no tomatoes" means. 

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