Wednesday, May 18, 2005

Groundhog's Day

"How come you won't go on a date with me?" he asks.
I hold up my left hand, without even looking up from my work.
"Okay, okay, okay. How 'bout a friendly dinner?"
I shake my head, gather my papers and walk away.

This is my Ground Hog's Day scene that plays on any given work day. The UPS man comes in, asks me out, I say no and then he leaves. This man never tires of asking, even though the answer is always the same. Sometimes the conversation lasts longer...
"Would you set me up with one of your friends?" he asks, referencing to the array of pictures I have on my desk of my young and beautiful friends. I smile.
"They'd eat you alive, Tom."
And it's true.
"What about you?" he winks. I hate winks. "If you were single."
"I'd still say no." I laugh, even though I'm not kidding, a habit I picked up from my grandmother. Smile when you're breaking their hearts- makes it sting more.
"You're just saying that because you can't tell me the truth." he winks again. I wonder if he has a twitch. "It's just dinner. A burger, some fries, maybe a beer."
"Then I'd definitely say no. I'm not a burger kind of girl."
This is usually when I walk away. He always laughs and walks out, as if this is a game of cat and mouse. Little does he know I am in no way a mouse and somehow the analogy of cat and tiger doesn't seem as appealing to most men I know. I certainly can't imagine that Tom-I-love-to-wink-UPS man would be interested in that sort of game.
He treats me like a woman.

Yes, I am aware I am a woman, thank you, before you even say it.

But just because I have breasts and a vagina doesn't mean every Tom, Dick (yes I'm calling you that) or Harry (ick) gets to experience either one of them. I feel violated by his eyes. I feel raped in his thoughts.

And I would never meet him for a date, single or taken. On a sidenote if I were trying to woo a woman with a significant other, I would never suggest a meeting for burgers and beer. A good bottle of anything-but-merlot and oysters rockefeller? Tom might have had a date. But then I'd have to endure him all night, and no amount of wine, no matter how good a year it was, can make that bearable. Instead I am destined to repeat this performance tomorrow.
and the day after that.
and the day after that.
Groundhog's day. what a bitch.
posted by Kellie @ 2:46 PM |

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