holy creepimony

why I wish the married man in the deli would stop hitting on me…

(the following examples include months of awkward small talk on days when i run out the door w/o my lunch and hafta buy something downstairs.)

last week:
He: oops, i accidentally ran your card as credit.
I: that’s ok…
He: (glances at the receipt) i guess i just wanted to know your name.
I: (thinking, “you could have looked at my card the whole time.”) Oh. (Glance at the wedding ring on his finger.)
*awkward pause* *sigh*
I: what’s YOUR name?”
He: chester. (a fitting alias to protect the…innocent?)
I: nice to officially meet you, chester. (Grab food and run.) (gotta go change my facebook privacy settings now that you know my last name.)

today:
He: (Leaning across the counter) so you’re grabbing lunch down here today huh?
I: (yes, captain obvious.) yep.
He: that’s good (creepy smile).
*awkward pause*
He: so what’d you do this weekend?
I: floated the salt river. (come on food, be done, be done)
He: oh yeah? you don’t look burnt. (glances downward)
I: (keep your eyes the hezz off me.) yeah, I used sunscreen.
He: did you get drunk?
I: ...what?
He: did you get DRUNK?
I: no. i don’t drink.
He: really…
I: true story.
He: do you have any kids?
I: …what?
He: do you have any kids?
I: nope. um…do you have any kids?
He: yep. one 13 and one 20 months.
I: that’s a big age difference. (teach ‘em not to be creepers, son.) k have a good day. (Grab food and run.) (Can totally see him in the reflection of the glass door as i leave, staring. He better have been looking at my awesome blue shoes.)

speaking of my $5 blue shoes:



speaking of no longer going to the deli…