So there I was, minding my own business, not bothering anyone. I was patiently waiting in the queue at the bank. For the record, I work in a sleepy, rural town; the fact that there were more than two other people in the bank at 2 in the afternoon was completely unanticipated, so I was already off kilter.
Ahead of me in line there was a man, and oh what a man.
He was an unbelievable specimen of flawless masculinity. A towering redhead, with piercing baby blues – my personal version of kryptonite. Not only that, but he was built like a Greek god. He was sporting a jacket for a nearby horse ranch and definitely played the part – well worn bluejeans, cowboy boots and the classic felt hat that made me think his spirit guide was John Wayne. He exuded rugged virility.
I may or may not have ogled for a moment or two. Then he turned and tipped his hat, dropping a smile on me that made my knees go weak. Honestly, it was a little absurd to feel like a schoolgirl instead of a grown damn woman. I tittered. Get it together Awkward Girl. Grown. Damn. Woman.
Gods save me, he ate it up. There I was, fantasy turned reality, flirting successfully with the most beautiful man I’d ever seen. Awkward Girl gave herself an inner hi-five. I was swimming in the golden moment – OMG. I cannot believe this cowboy Adonis is bantering with lil’ ol’ me!
Alas, it was Fool’s Paradise. The teller called him up to the window and he proceeded to write out a money order to the DOC to pay for his probation/parole fees. Crash landing.
I should have known he was fatally flawed. Ginger wins the day by asking:
And you weren’t even in Wal-Mart. Why do they tend to always make a direct line to you?
If I had an answer to that, my friend, my life would be very different…I’m pretty sure that there’s a cosmic sign on my back saying – “jerks, crazies & tragically defective apply here.”
I couldn’t make this stuff up if I tried.