So, last night I was sitting on a bar stool making googly eyes at the bartender with whom I went to high school when the guy next to me struck up a conversation with the winner of an opening question of, “So what kind of music do you listen to?” He had a ponytail and was a plumber and I’m pretty sure there was something else significant about him I’m supposed to remember from the conversation but all I have is that he looked at me – mid something or another – and said, “You have really white teeth.” To which I’m pretty sure my response was, “Yea, dental hygiene is really important to me.” Like, for real. Who says shit like that? One time I told my mom I strived to be like Julia Roberts in Pretty Woman except for the whole hooker part but more like the part where she carries floss everywhere and the mom just didn’t get it. I think I lost her at hooker. Like that time I casually said in conversation how I wanted to name my hypothetical son Holden as in Holden Caulfield as in Catcher in the Rye and the mom just said, “No.” And I was like, “What do you mean, no?” And we launched into a ten minute discussion about how I’m not allowed to name my hypothetical son that I’m having with my hypothetical husband who was first my hypothetical boyfriend after a fictional literary character. Did I mention that my name is derived from a fictional literary character? Yea, put that in your pipe and smoke it.
Anyway, I was ten minutes (okay, twenty) late for work today because I couldn’t find anything to wear. Also, I was out drinking last night, but I think the primary reason was for lack of casual clothing options so I’ll stick with that. So I run into this woman while in the building lobby borrowing $.60 from the security guard for my daily diet caffeinate inhalant. YES, I took money from the security guard but in my defense I called and said, “Would you like to donate anything for the good of the cause?” and he knew EXACTLY what I meant. So lobby lady says to me, as I’m making a beeline to the drink machine, “Aww, you look just like a little girl!”
Okay – what? At what age am I supposed to move from the “you look like so grown up” to “you look so young” compliment stage? 1. I am a little girl, am I not? 2. I DON’T THINK THAT WAS THE LOOK I WAS GOING FOR.
But, well, I took it like a champ. Mainly because she continued to tell me how much she loved my dress and the color and the length and yada yada this is so OBVIOUSLY why my love language is off the charts words of affirmation. When we read The 5 Love Languages in book club (and I was the only one that had to read The 5 Love Languages for Singles) and I figured out that rather than several love languages I have one bold and italicized one, I pranced into the office and told the boss man that my love language was words of affirmation and to take note of that. But, seriously. I mean it. I need reassurance. Like whoa. So the lady was totally working my needy side and then we started talking about dating because who doesn’t occasionally (I mean frequently) enter into discussions about the perils of dating with 60-something-year-old widowed women at their workplace? So she says to me, “It’s good to have standards. You’re not going to find the perfect person, but as long as he doesn’t drink…” Well, honestly, she lost me right about there. Because I don’t care if you drink. Cough – obviously. But what I do care about is whether or not you can afford to buy me invisalign as your wedding gift to me.
Ah, isn’t it pretty how dentistry can come full circle?