Blushing

I was helping Mom out at the store the other day. It was a bit chilly, so my usual attire I'd wear to the store (t-shirt and jeans) was accentuated with an overgrown sweatshirt and instead of flip-flops, I wore a pair of striped socks with my flip flops. If there were a fashion contest somewhere on Mars, I'm sure I'd at least be a runner-up.

Sitting behind the counter, I read from a book of short stories about men reveling in their tales of love and committed relationships (a combination many have lost faith in). And being newly single, I needed to renew my faith in the male psyche. There was a story about one man who couldn't bear the thought of being with just one woman their entire life. How is it that women want the complete opposite: one soul mate to share their life with when men only want a revolving door of women to whet their sexual appetites. I'm sure they're not all like that, but come on...Am I being too harsh here? Anyhow, at the end of the story he finds his true love in Paris and has an epiphany that he's never felt so liberated in his life.

Anyhow, the door rings open and in walks three young men, probably no more than 18 years old. I greet them and wait patiently as they speculate on what to purchase. I notice one of these boys eyeballing me. Oh no. I'm too old for this. But I was like a deer caught in hormonal headlights.

He walks over and leans on the counter. "What's up with you?"

I smile and nod. Maybe he'll think I don't know English. Oh, but I've already greeted them with my perfect Texan accent. "Nothing, just working."

"Nah, I mean what's up with you?"

I can't help but chuckle. Does this really work on girls? Surely even on a high school girl's creep meter, this would rank high in the slimey category. "Uhh, how old are you?" I'm curious.

"Old enough. How old are you?"

"I'm old. Really, old. You should be talking to someone younger."

"How old are you?"

"Old enough to be....your auntie."

This makes him and his friends laugh.

"Nah, baby, you perfect for me."

I think to myself sarcastically. Yes, this surely is a match that Cupid foretold in the clouds of heaven. Me in my big sweatshirt and this mini-man who's found renewed confidence in himself with the commencement of his newly grown pubic hair.

"No, I'm not really looking for any new acquaintances right now. You should talk to someone cuter."

"You ain't too old. Come on, I'd hit that."

This catches me off guard. "Oh...thanks. I"m not really keeping acquaintances right now." I'm both horrified and flattered at the same time.

His friends buy some chips and soda and I bid them all adieu and a good night. The Casanova of the group walks out very slowly, turning his head back towards me as if I'd suddenly change my mind and drop my panties. How crazy these young guys nowadays.

It's so strange. That collision of when you have this idea of yourself and then someone turns that on its head. Shakes you to the core.

After they leave, I go to the back to wash my hands. I look into the mirror. My reflection peers back at me: dry skin, hair pulled back in a pony tail, glasses that are crooked from sitting on them too much, lips that are in desperate need of Chapstick. I can't help but smile at the lingering crimson of flattery heating my cheeks.