If you have read some of our earliest posts, you may remember a man named Franco (a.k.a gay, hairdressing weenie.) In reality, Franco is neither gay, nor a hairdresser, nor an exotic cereal inventor. He is actually a handsome Asian man that likes to flirt with me at work at the most inconvenient times. In my mind, however, he is still always wearing a hotdog suit.
First of all, I’m not really the flirtatious type. I’m not apt to like people in general, and as I’ve already established, I am kind of antisocial at work because I am too busy thinking about all the places I’d rather be and conjuring ways to make the hours go faster (such as counting the day in musical albums rather than in hours, rationing my food to break up the day with snack times, and writing myself lists of all the amazingly fun things I am going to do when I get home, such as...yoga. Or fingernail painting....or...basically anything besides everything I have to do at work.)
I am also not a morning person. I hate it when anyone tries to talk to me in the morning. After ten am, I’m all yours (within reason), but before then, unless you are quietly bringing me a latte and then immediately making yourself scarce, I really want nothing to do with you. I am overall pretty good at disguising my Morning Hatefulness, but Franco caught me at a time when it was making itself inescapably clear.
Apparently I looked really attractive. I mean, who wouldn’t want to hit on THAT, right?
Anyways, so I went to the cafeteria to get myself a bagel, hoping to not encounter anyone I knew. Ok, I actually went and hid in the bathroom for a few minutes when I saw someone else I knew going to the caf, because I really didn’t feel like talking to anyone and didn’t want to enter at the same time for fear of having to make conversation.
So I was at the bagel table, when I started dropping stuff, because I hadn’t had my cup of coffee that morning and I had my headphones in so I kind of had negative 10% alertness going on....and it seems to me, that every time I am dropping things or having an otherwise ridiculous clumsy moment, THAT is when guys choose to approach me. I think it’s because they’re secretly scared to talk to girls so they just lurk in corners and watch for you to do something stupid so that they can pop out and make fun of you for it so they seem all cool and composed and smooth and whatnot, when really they’re just too chicken to talk to you at your best. Feel free to defend yourselves, guys, but I probably won’t buy it. I’m onto you.
So my half-awake, food and caffeine-deprived brain, that was at that moment using all of its capacity to absorb the Postal Service which was playing on my iPod, took an absurdly long amount of time to understand what was happening, and I stared blankly at him as I tried to think of an adequate comeback. Nothin’. Absolutely nothing.
I must have looked kind of ticked off, because his confident, flirtatious air started to fizzle, and he began backpedaling, with “I’m just...kidding.........”
And then he walked away and I very calmly said something super lame like, “I guess I am just kind of clumsy this morning”, at which he politely chuckled.
After that I hastily got in line to pay for my bagel, and he made another feeble attempt to flirt with me, because he obviously wasn’t getting the picture that I was pretty much at my grumpiest and wanted to be left alone.
Of course, later I thought of many adequate comebacks....well, no, I didn’t. But I could’ve yelled something like, “OH YEAH?? WELL YOU’RE ASIAN!!!”
Which is neither an insult, nor a valid argument, nor even relevant.....but it might’ve caught him off guard long enough for me to make a run for it.
Or I could’ve said, “YOU DON’T HAVE A BEARD!!” which would have been an insult, AND a valid argument, AND an adequate comeback.....all of which only I would have understood. But once again, ample running time.
Bottom line, be warned Francopants. Next time you disturb my morning I’m going to deck you in the face.