This morning, on the way out of my early morning
workout in Silverlake, I passed a gentleman getting out of his car. He smiled. I smiled. And I continued walking up the hill to my car. As I was climbing in, I noticed him all of a sudden beside me in his car. He'd clearly gotten in his Yaris, turned it around on the narrow street and driven up to meet me. He motioned to me. I gave him the thumbs up sign. He wanted my spot, I assumed, and I certainly didn't object to him taking it. I drove out, turned my own car around and noticed he was now standing outside his car. His hair was dark and longish--he was like a modern-day Prince Valiant if Prince Valiant were a bit bulkier...and Persian. I rolled down my window and he approached.
'Hello,' he said.
'Hello,' I replied.
He is really grinning now. 'I have a question. Are you married?'
I am smiling awkwardly. 'No, I am not.'
'Ah, I like you. You are so beautiful. May I give my number to you?'
'I am actually seeing someone. I'm just not married.' I wave my hand to show him my ringless finger.
And we part our separate ways--he, still grinning, me, smiling but not sure why. I can't figure out if I'm flattered or offended. Granted, my post-workout glow was surely alluring. And I had smiled. But does my friendliness seriously welcome such crazed approaches from tall, dark, accented courters? Am I a walking target for wooing until I get a diamond on my finger? Well, I'll be heading to the 99 cent store soon after work then to pick up a faux bauble to sport on my ring finger.
Aspiring beaus beware.
Logging into Gmail this morning I found a friendly note from the still-Beta email service letting me know that Gmail now provides an 'Autopilot' service. If you can't read the sections I've highlighted above, it states that Gmail Autopilot by CADIE...
This morning, on the way out of my early morning workout in Silverlake, I passed a gentleman getting out of his car. He smiled. I smiled. And I continued walking up the hill to my car. As I was climbing in, I noticed him all of a sudden beside me in his car. He'd clearly gotten in his Yaris, turned it around on the narrow street and driven up to meet me. He motioned to me. I gave him the thumbs up sign. He wanted my spot, I assumed, and I certainly didn't object to him taking it. I drove out, turned my own car around and noticed he was now standing outside his car. His hair was dark and longish--he was like a modern-day Prince Valiant if Prince Valiant were a bit bulkier...and Persian. I rolled down my window and he approached.
My cousin--we'll call him Joe--is married to a woman with no job, lots of problems, and a generally unpleasant disposition. The kind of woman, when love's worn thin and senses have been come to, that a man might think to divorce. But the economy's tough right now, Joe's business is suffering, and his adjustable mortgage has increased. To quote Joe, he "can't afford to divorce her."
