I’m just gonna write, despite crippling “I suck today” ethers circulating about my person. By the way, did you notice I didn’t do this week’s PROMPT? Despite private email exchanges with Cheri urging her to stop being a pansy ass, I myself pansy assed out. Still, I’ll do it. Really, I will. But am I jinxing myself? (That’s gay, right?)
And guess what? I was asked out today, or more like two weeks ago, and true to form, I couldn’t say “no,” even though I’m married. But don’t worry. I kept The Rock apprised of every possible adulterative advance and had his full support to stop being an idiot and just tell the guy I was married already. However, first I’m gonna back up and tell you how I can’t say “no.” Case(s) in point: I’m the girl who invites bedecked Mormons into her home and accepts their proffered Bibles, who pledges money to the local Firefighters’/Pot Growers’/Meth Lab Development Fund even though I gave money just last week, who chats up telemarketers because I feel bad for them, and who says “Yes! I’ll attend your multilevel marketing/Silpada Jewelry/Pampered Chef/hot sex toy party and also purchase an under $50 gift!” because apparently, my parents raised me to be subservient and prone to work-from-home business schemes. Either way, I cannot, will not, was taught to not, say “no.”
So. The guy who asked me out. Well, he was cute. And carried a guitar (do NOT get me started on guys with guitars), but that’s not the point. The crux is three-fold. One, I don’t wear a wedding ring because my bloated-ass fingers do not accommodate such, and two, I didn’t get that I was being asked out until it was too late; and three, I kinda liked being asked out.
Wait. I need to back up again.
All right. Over the past several months, I’ve done my freelance writing/editing at a local Starbucks. And back in the summer, a man approached me at said Starbucks and told me that the indie coffee shop he and I USED to frequent (truth be known, I’d been there just twice and do not remember him) had just been mowed over by a 90-year-old man who mistook the gas pedal for the brake. Also, Oldie McLead Foot completely decimated the spot I’d been sitting in. So there was an emotional connection. I instantly felt tied to Guitar Guy who clued me in to the fact that my bodily bits had nearly been scattered to the four winds by an elderly nutjob.
After that, I saw the Guitar Guy off and on, never thinking anything of it. He’d say “hi,” make conversation and et. al, etc., and so on, but I just thought he was a “coffee house dude.” (Whatever that is.)
(OK. It’s a guy who goes to coffee places to meet chicks.)
So I just kept my eyes on my computer screen, said “hello,” when I saw him and tried to convey that I was not indeed, ignoring him. But really, he is a nice guy, and I’m a rag because I’m making it seem like he’s a loser. Which would really be more of a reflection on me.
I’m bugging myself.
Anyway, time passes. And then, a few weeks ago, on Valentine’s Day to be exact, I’m sitting in Starbucks, doing my thing. Next thing I know, I hear Guitar Guy talking to the Starbucks manager, laughing over the fact that neither one of them have a Valentine’s date. OK, I get it. I didn’t have a Valentine’s date for 29 of my 40 years. (Some years, I still don’t.) It happens. But it did seem like he said it awfully loud and obviously.
Then.
Guitar Guy plops down next to me and says “Hello.” He’s such a gentle, sweet soul, truly, and I reply, “Hi! But ohmygosh I’m so busy,” as in “Can’t talk.” So he respects that until the verrrrryy end, when I was packing up, and at that point, asks what I’m doing for Valentine’s Day. I answer truthfully and say I forgot it actually was Valentine’s Day (The Rock and I went out the night before) and then realize: this answer might suggest that I’m single.
Then, before I can collect myself, I’m asked what I do to exercise.
Now. That question could be taken either way. Is he saying I’m bloated? ‘Cuz, I know that, but I thought I did well to keep the paunchy parts under wraps, or…is he entre vousing into an ask-out situation?
I’m not sure. I don’t want to assume anything, so I say, “Nothing,” which is the damn sad truth, and he tells me he hikes here and there and mountain bikes there and here and is generally fit and athletic. I nod enthusiastically, because it’s great that people don’t sit in front of their computers every day, not that I’d know any freaking thing about that, and think “Wow. Exercise is good.”
Also, I may have said that out loud.
At that point, Guitar Guy says we should exercise together sometime and I’m still back at my butt is bloated and don’t respond right away. Did he just ask me out? Probably not, because I look like a hobo and didn’t shower that day.
I hem and haw and don’t give an affirmative, but also don’t say “I’m married,” because it seemed like I should have said that long ago, but I assumed men don’t look at me anymore, and how can I be expected to anticipate that someone might want to still exercise with me after all these years?
Anyway, he leaves after an intense eye-contact-to-eye-contact handshake goodbye and I stupidly, stupidly call The Rock and tell him I think someone just asked me out, and he says, “But you told him you were married, right?” and I had to say “No. No I didn’t. I took his Bible and I raised him some Silpada fine jewelry.” And when The Rock questioned me further, I had to say that I just plain felt bad. It takes guts to ask someone out and I didn’t have the heart to say I was married. Also, I’m insecure. And if he wasn’t really asking me out, I lacked the intestinal fortitude to hack that affront to my fragile self esteem.
(Could this story drag on any longer?)
So what happened next is that today, two-ish weeks after V-Day, I ran into Guitar Guy again, and he handed me his card with his email and phone number and I still didn’t say “I’m married,” because where do you stick that phrase in? and I ended up emailing him two seconds after he left to say I had a husband and Guitar Guy was like, “Whatever.”
Actually, I think his exact words were: “You never know until you approach someone where there heart is at!” and at that moment, I knew I made the right call.
I understand completely. I would have no idea on earth someone might be actually interested in me until it was too late…happened once, and i did a similar thing; Stuttered over my words a bit then made an excuse to leave. At no time did it occur to me point out I was married. I was so surprised anyone was even interested.
Sad thing is, I do wear my wedding ring…hmmm
Hilarious, and as a self-professed anecdotalist I have to say that was the perfect post, which makes it all worth it right?
Don’t you just LOVE 90-yr-old drivers.
Oh yeah. He had me up to “there.” Good call ;)
Honey, I would have done the same thing you did. I also would have gotten up and done a little dance that apparently, someone thought I still had something going on in this train wreck that is me. Then I would have felt bad that I would have have to eventually turn the man down, but feeling so bad that I felt bad, so maybe I offered to get him some coffee and conversation to make myself not feel bad…except in my head, that rambling didn’t sound like I was “I’m all that, surely he would feel bad that I turned him down!”
Long comment short, I loved this post!
Hmmm I’m not sure what I would do if someone “normal” like that spoke to me or asked me out. I seem to only attract strange and weird men who want to tell me all about their tax troubles…
Duuuuu-de! Somebody out there loves you! SanDiego Momma’s still rocking the Man-Love! Coffee Dude’s got a crush on you! I think I’d feel just like you did–WTF? For real? Yeah, I’m clueless just like you–the only difference is I spend a $30 minimum at home parties.
I, too, can’t say no to people. I’m not married, but I might as well be, and I probably would’ve done the same thing.
He totally gives me a yucky vibe from all the way over here! Totally!
By the way, I see that Eden already mentioned the “there” problem, but the dangling “at” is really bothering me, too. Just sayin’.
You are kind. Too kind, but so kind.
However? That dude is creepy.
Also, glad that you switched coffee houses before you got mowed down.
Mary: Maybe the guy who asked you out was a swinger? Or blind?
Stoneskin: You are more than a self-professed anecdotalist. I often profess you as such too! AND yes on the 90-year-old drivers. I believe they all should do as my friend Rebecca did: give up their cars at 85 because you must assume you can’t drive as well as you once did.
Eden: EXACTLY.
FADKOG: It warms my cockles to know that there is someone else out there so much like me.
Danielle: I get the strange and weird ones too. TRUST ME.
Green Girl: Hee hee! Rockin’ the man-love! It sounds so dirty! Perfectly dirty.
Sabrina: I think we both need to practice the “no.” Am I right? (You can say no) :)
Blognut: And! And! And in a subsequent email correspondence, there was a “your/you’re” misuse situation that disturbed me.
Kizzie: Thanks for your anti-mowing sentiment.
if he was gay, then he would’ve asked me out. i think it’s really nice that you still date even though you’re married. you’re sweet.
I almost wrote, “Ellen, you’re so funny.” But, your name is Deb, and I KNOW that. But, take it as a compliment that I almost called you Ellen, because Ellen cracks me up, and this post cracked me up, too. :)
the fact that you got asked out aside, in my opinion, you’re at your best when you “just write”. (or should i say YOUR at YOU’RE best.)
Holy frickamole. I’ve been outted twice this week. I. Am. Staying. In. This. Hidey. Hole. so don’t utter the “P” word at me any more.
Also? I think it is perfectly reasonable to go around saying, “I’m married with two kids” right up until the time that you find out that you other options. What’s hard to understand about that?
Speaking of being outted twice this week (and just think how karma is going to bite you in your bloated ass for outting me), wouldn’t it be awesome if the next time you went to Starbucks there was Guitar Guy waiting to tell you that he read about himself on your blog. It. Could. Happen. Take it from me.
Finally? I love you.
Oh. And. Finally redux? Does he play bass guitar? ‘Cause that would be the hottest thing of all.
tachycardia
edge of my seat
biting my nails
until the happy ending.
Whew.
Yeah, the right call, and just two weeks late making it! ; )
You get a little credit for that, but just a little.
I am SO glad I vist your site from time to time. I get a little laugh, and my nails needed trimming.
I loved this post. Do you know I had a reader (male) recently email me to ask me if we could meet in person? I thought he was just being friendly, but then his next email mentioned his wife was going out of town and he feels a “bond” with me. Hello? What? I wanted to ask, “You’re JOKING, right?” Anyway – so today I posted a photo of myself on my blog which I never do and I figure that should scare him far, far, away. I hope.
This is hysterical. I think it shows that you’ve still got it. It also shows that you are a midwesterner who cannot say no.
I was asked out recently at a gas station car wash fundraiser thingee. Some kid invited me to his prom. I laughed in his face (unintentional, it was a natural reaction) and told him I am 40. He was horrified.
Oh my it’s been YEARS since I’ve been hit on. I wouldn’t know what it’s like.
Good on you for being hit-on-able. Yeah. New word.
I could move in to my local Starbucks and still not get asked out and clearly we all know that I am single
Do you know that my goal in life now is to get hit on by some random dude? Because it apparently makes for excellent blogging.
At least you know he has great taste in potential dates.
Weird thing about coffee houses and getting hit on…I went to our local Coffee Plantation for a Mommies Night Out, and there was a dude that was like 60-ish and quite disheveled and he says “They have GREAT coffee here.”, I say “So I’ve heard”. And he went on to tell me how I look 21 or something (ummm…sure)…but I think I did blurt “I’m 29 and married with 4 children”. He walked away.
You are so damn funny! I hope you NEVER stop writing. I NEED your stories in my days. NEED THEM, I tell ya!
I don’t like telling guys I’ve never been married. Because then they get that look in their eyes like “What the hell is wrong with you?” And I just can’t take that.
“there”??? good thing you ditched him.
I mean, anyway, Cause you wouldn’t have actually… you know. I know I mean, why would you?
Damn. I wish someone would hit on ME…..even though I’d never… you know.
Oldie McLead Foot. I’m upstairs alone in my pajamas with feet giggling like an idiot and I want to call you so I can tell you how funny this is but it’s almost 10:00 so I’ll just go back to my reader and giggle every now and then.
(Holy Hell I must need to go to bed. What did I just write?!)
That is the story of every relationship I ever fell into! Except the one I have now, which became a marriage.
I never saw any of them coming — sometimes not even until the goodnight kiss, which caught me off guard. How’s THAT for stupid?
And if MY crippling “I suck today” ever met YOUR “I suck today,” MINE would commit suicide. Because even when you think you suck, you’re AWESOME. ;)