call me mrs. robinson and i’ll punch you in the kneecap.

so…short story that should be longer but i don’t want to talk about it yet because i don’t know what i want/am going to do yet: i have been trying to turn on the charm with a certain person. sometimes i come off conqueror–straightforward and ultrabrave–and other times i’m like THIS.IS.JUST.SO.AWKWARD. and i flee from the IM in horror.

the take home message here is that i have begun to doubt my flirting abilities.

there for a while, i was just a force to be reckoned with–supersocial, completely sure of myself (or great at faking it), at ease in my own skin, and completely and utterly charming. now? i think that it has grown to be a part of me so that i don’t notice it so much anymore, but i don’t think i’ve had enough practice lately to know if it’s still there.

i still think that when i turn on the charm, i can make people stop in their tracks. i think i just have sort of forgotten where the switch is, so recent situations find me fumbling around the metaphorical wall, looking for it, instead of gracefully flipping that bad boy into “HELLO! PAY ATTENTION TO ME!”

it could also be that thinking about it so much has made me freak out more about it. like when you know that you have a zit the size of rhode island on your chin and you think that everybody’s staring at it.

anyways. last night, after institute, my roommate and i went to publix. my purpose was to get in and out of there as soon as humanly possible. i had a headache verging on migraine status, i needed fruit and vegetables and things to eat that weren’t ramen, and it was 9 p.m. so we meander with purpose through the aisles (i LOVE strawberries and salad on sale, and i enjoy the fact that i got out of there spending less than $30 on food but still managed to get sourdough bread and as a tangential question, why does no one on the east coast know how to make sourdough bread really sour? i miss it, california girl that i am) and get to the register.

my roommate’s like “man…you picked the kids’ aisle. no gossipy things to look at!”

(also…no candy. a good thing. but raisins! which i bought. and am rather excited about, actually.)

no idea how true that kid aisle comment was.

get up to the checkout line after my roommate has bought her two items and answer the obligatory “how are you?” question with my standard “good. how are you?”.

and realize that the adorable checkout guy is making serious eye contact. ookay. moving along. slight compliment, i suppose, for migraine, very little make-up, why-yes-this-shirt-is-ridiculously-wrinkled-thanks-for-noticing, hair pulled up girl. but you’re like 20, at the most. adorable, yes. not quite jail bait, i guess, but…really? no. 21 is my limit. now.

so i slide my card, teasing my roommate about how she called me with some kind of animal noise and how i won’t answer to that, not at all unaware of the irony of how i actually DID respond to that when i didn’t respond to my name or the fact that the checkout guy and equally adorable bag guy are now listening intently.

yes, i can tell.

then the checkstand goes all haywirey, and checkout boy is apologizing for making me wait, telling me that it’s not my card. and hello, flirt switch. all of the sudden, i’m teasing back, telling him that he did it on purpose. and he responds that, yes, most definitely, he intended to make my life as difficult as possible. and we have a little cute moment there in the publix.

AND THE CROWD GOES WILD!

or at least the crowd in my head. hey, maybe i don’t suck at this after all.

(and then the bag guy called me ma’am. immediate deflation. i don’t want to talk about it.)

relatively happy with my publix outing, i am loading my groceries into my car and the 16 year old (maybe?) cart collector guy in his brown publix apron comes to fetch it RIGHT when i was about to need to do something with it.

i was high on the serendipity of that when i said “perfect timing!” and he said, obviously trying to work his game, “it’s what i planned when i got up this morning.”

hi, my name is drbolte and i play well to the 16-22 demographic.

*crickets*

super.

but the moral of the story is…the flirt switch still works. and grocery stores make for good stories.

Advertisements

3 Responses to “call me mrs. robinson and i’ll punch you in the kneecap.”

  1. Uh, do we want to talk about how the bag boys at publix flirt with me…and then I realize that the slightly inappropriate thought that flits through my mind (what? he’s HOT! and looks slightly like Nate from Gossip Girl) is ILLEGAL as my little sister points out “I think he’s in one of my friends’ classes.” Which means he’s a minor.

    And then he calls me ma’am. WHAT?! Like I’m Emily’s mother or something? That hurt. That HURT, man.

  2. 21 year olds seem to live me that much that my friends have nicknamed me mrs robinson! ive been revelling in it, although a new hairdresser last night told me he was going to make me into a ‘yummy mummy’*. I am not a mum. I dont want to look old enough to be a mum. im not a fan of this side of being a mrs robinson type!

    (*if you haven’t heard of this very British phrase – it means a mum who has that much money she can maintain her fabulousness whilst running around with 3 sickly sweet blond kids. they are always blonde)

  3. hahah hilarious. i should really try to exercise the flirting muscle more often!

Leave a Reply

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in:

WordPress.com Logo

You are commenting using your WordPress.com account. Log Out /  Change )

Google photo

You are commenting using your Google account. Log Out /  Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out /  Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out /  Change )

Connecting to %s

%d bloggers like this: