Face-palm. STORY TIME : The time I was hit on. Sort of. K, not really.

Thursday, January 8, 2015

SO! Story time :

A few days ago, I was walking out of Wells Fargo in Trolley Square to go find my car. To set the scene : I was wearing a baseball hat, no makeup, my giant coat, no bra, sweatpants (and not the cute kind), and running shoes. Also I was probably wearing a scowl because the wait was so long at the bank. But anyways, (positive thoughts 2015) onwards!

As I was walking, a car pulls up next to me and a guy about my age rolls down the window.
Let me back up, I was blessed and cursed with inflated self-confidence + also inflated confidence in my ability to read people + situations.

SO! Right as he pulled up next to me, I was already thinking that he was about to hit on me. Or something ridiculous. GUYS WHO AM I?! Why do I do these things?

He rolls down his window and kindly asks,
"Hey! Are you parked around here?"

...to which I jump to the idiotic conclusion that he is wanting to give me a ride to my car...and ask me out...

I reply, practically screaming and giddy with myself because I am such a good person and I am SO cute! and I am going to make this totally not-awkward for this kind guy! :

"OH! Yes! Well, sort of! I am like, 100 yards away but (here's where it gets presumptuous) I can just walk there myself! I need the exercise! Thank you so much for the offer, though! You are like, the sweetest!"

Even now as I type this, I am so embarrassed.
Also I was like, placing my hands on my heart and being so over-the-top + acting like I was truly, truly touched by the offer THAT HE DID NOT MAKE.

He looked bemused, then amused, then embarrassed for me, and replied,

"Well. Ummm. I could give you...okay, actually I was just wondering if I could have your parking space? The lot is kind of full..."

I just nodded and was like,

"Yep. Totally. Cool. K. Bye."

And then power-walked to my car while he followed behind me in his car.

Also, it gets worse.

I then call Jeff + my mom to tell them about the interaction and am crying of laughter but also so embarrassed. I then go to Trader Joe's and return back to my car, still replaying the conversation.

I look at my windshield + see a note with a phone number on it and NO JOKE, touch my heart again. As if to signify, I was right. I am cute. He was hitting on me. I am such a good person for turning that situation on its head and embarrassing myself instead of him. I am cute...

After thirty minutes of driving, I unfold the note to read that someone had bumped into my car while I was in the Trader Joe's parking lot. Mmmm. Yep.


P.S. Dear Armen, you are nice.


  1. HAHAH i'm dying. For sure hitting on you though, you ARE so cute (touching heart).


be nice?


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