Okay.......so I was in the grocery store, minding my business - trying to remember the items on the grocery list that I left at home: mayo...black pepper...garlic... and I was chewing on my bottom lip because that's what I do when I'm thinking. Out of nowhere - very close to my left ear I hear:
"You have beautiful dimples."
I turn around and there is an older white guy about 65 or 66 with a huge smile on his face. Those beautiful teeth in his mouth are dentures, I surmise.
"Thank you," I said.
"They are simple beautiful," he said.
I give him the full effect of my dimples, and I smiled with my mouth closed, as to feature them. He turned red.
So, I go about my business of challenging my mind trying to recall what's on the grocery list. I make haste down the isle to the seasoning section before I forget the black pepper. Coming down the same isle is the older white guy. When I passed him, he said something that I could not compute. I just smiled - a little. What in the hell did he just say? (I ask myself).
I continue shopping, quite proud of myself because my memory is still as sharp as ever. I wheel my defective cart in the cashier line and think about what to make for dinner. I turned my head slightly to the right to see the older white guy behind me.
"Hello, again," he said.
"Hey," I said. (Thinking, this is getting creepy).
I pulled out my credit card and ID from my back pocket. He noticed my ID is from Illinois. He proudly boasts that he is from Iowa. Of course, the first thing ANY Midwesterner living in California talk about is the snow and cold back home. Before I know it, he has reached in his wallet and pulled out a business card - shoving it in my hand. I look at it. His name is Bill Vaughn, a Sales Manager at a local Ford dealership.
"Bill?" I said, trying to be polite.
"Yes," he responded. "Call me. We can talk about our Midwestern roots."
"What? Like corn and wheat fields?" I said.
He laughed so hard he had to dig in his pocket to retrieve a handkerchief to wipe his nose.
"Sure," I said, nonchalantly. "I like talking about vegetation."
"Seriously," he said. "Call me. I would like to get to know you. I love your dimples."
WHAT? YUCK! NASTY! DIRTY OLD MAN!
I gathered my bags, grabbed my cart, and raced out of that store like a bat outta hell. I am NOT at the age where I find DIRTY OLD MEN attractive. And I am NOT looking for a Sugar Daddy - aka mass murderer in disguise.
Get the f*ck outta here!
