So I’m at 7-11 on a bright, beautiful morning last week, being a good citizen and doing my share in stimulating the economy by buying my morning cup of jo'.
I’m at the checkout counter paying for my purchase and an elderly man, very elderly man, comes in line behind me.
"Nice earrings," he says. He had a warm smile and looked like the type that could talk to anyone without a problem.
Hm, that’s a strange comment coming from a man. Methinks anyway. I smile back and thank him. How cute is he?
"So you like southwestern jewelry," he asks.
"Yeah, I do."
"Those earrings are really nice. Stunning. Did you buy them here in New York or Arizona or some place like that?"
Wow! Friendly, little bugger, isn't he? "Nope. Right here in New York! Macy’s, as a matter of fact."
"Really?," he seems astounded. "Wow! I thought you bought them at X store in X town that specializes in that kind of stuff."
"Nope. Macy’s!" Dummy me humors his conversation. "I didn’t know they had a southwestern store in X town?"
"Oh yeah," and he goes ahead and gives me the name of store and the street it’s on.
Hm? Pretty informative little man. How nice is he?
"Yeah," he continues, "You, know, I’m a southwestern type of guy myself."
"Yeah, I got horses and all."
"Oh, how wonderful! I love horses! They’re such beautiful creatures." Can you say woman without a clue?
"Well," he says, seizing his opportunity, "do you want to play hooky and come with me and ride my horse?"
The 7-11 guy gives him a dirty look and seems disgusted by him. Methinks he just didn't like him.
"Oh, no, thanks. I have to go to work," I smile and walk away.
"Okay, well, maybe next time!"
Yeah. I laugh. How cute.
I get to work and tell the ladies I believe a little old man was flirting with me and heard the best pick-up line ever. But, "this is the best I can do?" A couple of decades younger, I wouldn't have minded, but one-foot-in-the-grave old? *sigh* I'm still cute, what's going on here?!
I tell my husband later on that night.
"He’s not cute, Rebecca. He’s a little pervert. I don’t think you understood the meaning of the word horse."
Huh? I was shocked. Fifty years old and I still don’t know what the day of the week it is. It was all a ploy and I hadn't a clue. This is just too sad for words.
But, hey, on the upside, at least this one was walking upright and without a walker. That’s a step up from a few years ago when a son was pimping his decrepit old father at the parking lot of Macy's onto me. He could barely walk (he was on a walker) and could barely breathe (he was on an oxygen tank) but was hitting on me. Seriously, dude? Seriously? *sigh* My life's over.
Picture, courtesy of Deviant Art.