After my brief stint at the branch I was transferred to, I thought that I was going to be safe from the usual McCreepsters and Fauxtharios that try to — well, not court me — but whatever the opposite of courting is, that’s what they’re doing.
It’s a family oriented community, with a heavily immigrant population, so many of them, again, are tight-knit families that hold on to the their culture in this strange and confusing nation that is known as the United States.
WELL, of course, SOMEONE had to prove me wrong.
Of course it wasn’t Joseph Gordon-Levitt. If it was, I wouldn’t be complaining. I’m sure i could at least carry on a conversation with him. His age is also not creeptastic.
He came in a couple of weeks ago, and I could tell he was eye-screwing me from my seat that sits nary a four feet off the ground (no cleavage that day, so I’m not sure what he may have caught that sparked interest). He said some things that alarmed me that I’ve since blocked out, but one part of his behaviour that I DID notice was him trying to make his balls drop further than God will allow by making his voice sextra deep and smooth. Yes, I just thought of sextra, because that is how hard he was trying. I thought he was going to choke (damn!). He tried to use his card and had a massive fine. Didn’t seem like he wanted to pay, so I thought that he finally left and I’d never see him again.
Yesterday, he comes straight to me (fuck!) and wants to pay up his fine. I pull up his account and announce the amount he owes. He gladly pays for it. I process the transaction at the register, and print out his receipt.
“You forgot something”
*Insert black woman’s vocal crescendo here*
Telling ME how to do MY JOB?
“No, I did not.”
(third testicle drops) “You forgot to put your number on the back of this so I can take you for lunch.”
FIRST of all, this is not a Schliz Malt Liquor Commercial, nor is it 1987 (though sometimes I wish it would be…). It’s 20EFFIN13! If you’re going to hit on someone that is younger than you, and very much clearly not your age — at least try some new shit. Not something that I would hear on some craptastical “Up All Night” flick on USA from the 80s and 90s.
I don’t know how I got away with watching that. Duckman, maybe?
DISCLAIMER: The following re-enactment of the remaining event can only be explained by the Divine Ms. Retta (aka Donna Meagle on Parks and Rec)
“I’m good, thanks”
(those are both of my responses. This is not an exaggeration)
Keep that shit for people in your age group, bruh!
And what happened to people trying to get to know you first before agreeing to meet them for dinner? Ask me my name. Where I’m from. General information that you can use to stalk me on Google or Facebook. But please, don’t just assume that I’d want to attend or accompany you to dinner because you were able to whip out 50 plus dollars casually to PAY A DEBT. The beauty of that invitation will only be swooned over if I’ve developed something mutual after having spoken with you for more than 10 seconds.
Now, I’m not opposed to dating someone who is older than me. HOWEVER, if you look like you could have attended primary school with my parents (neither my mother of father have aged…) then maybe we shouldn’t be talking.
I know people say that you attract what you put out there, but I don’t understand how I get hit on by Billy Dee Williams’ bastard son, a lost child of the Manson Family who drives around a mini-van (but has no kids!), Thugs. Just Thugs. Guys who are two years younger than me and consider me an “older woman”, and you know, people who don’t have any future plans, but expect me to take care of them. Oh, and the one that has to tell me EVERY.TIME. that I remind him of his baby’s mama. If that’s the case, get back with her! And stop bringing in your kid so that I can see how much we DON’T resemble each other. Kthanx.
How me, as a working woman, trying to do better, not lacking in a sharp amount of intelligence (and can always use more…), who speaks eloquently despite the amalgamation of accents (Guyanese, Grenadian, Queens, Southern – blame my parents), a bohemian spirit that mixes funk, punk, and class in my wardrobe and way of life. Yet, I have all of these Fauxtharios lusting after me? I had someone tell me recently that when they see me, they know what they’re getting…so they don’t understand why I attract the individuals that I do, or why I haven’t attracted anyone at all.
Yes, I may be endowed in the rear and bust, and — apparently killer legs (?) — until the mosquitoes ravage them, among other places, but I look healthy and don’t show it off. What is it that brings me the most undesirable and delusional individuals? Why do they believe I am busting at the seams with an unstoppable desire to be whisked away in their windowless (but well decorated interior. It has cable. No, I haven’t considered it) child abduction van to spend a lifetime together?
How can I escape this? Do I start dressing like a whore to averse the effects?
Or I guess I will just wait until the one shows up…whoever that may be. But hurry up, whoever it is. I need kids to drop off to mum and dad to keep ’em occupado.
Quality applicants only.