I recently got hit on at the store while shopping after work (11:30pm). The guy had to be between 18-22? (looked like a baby to me). He was tall and thin with a faux-hawk. Almost skater/emo (is emo still a thing?) looking. Complete with ear gauges and extremely tight pants. And he had NO idea what he was walking himself into. It’s a good thing for me that you can’t see my crazy on the outside, because it was thoroughly entertaining for me. At first, anyways. I’m pretty sure he walked away more confused than the time his mom tried explaining to him that “skinny jeans” are for teenage girls and anorexic super models…
He walked by the aisle I was in a few times before approaching me. His awe inspiring opening line: “So, uhh… You doing some late night shopping?”
Me: No. Actually I’m looking for the polar bears.
Me: The polar bears. Don’t you watch The Discovery Channel? They’ve been coming down from Alaska and hiding inside of Wal-Mart stores all day. Then around midnight, they come out and do this awesome dance with ribbons and junk. I need autographs. Err… Paw prints. Or SOMETHING! I heard they were in this area right now and this is too good to pass up.
Him: (looking extremely confused) “What?”
Me: Yes. I’m doing some late night shopping.
Him: Right on. What are you getting?
I look down in my arms at the shampoo and body wash. “Some shower stuff.”
Him: Oh. That’s cool. So… You gonna go home and take a shower?
Me: Probably not. I’ve already showered this month. I usually only do it after my period because my sweat isn’t very potent then.
Him: What do you mean, potent? Like, smelly?
Me: No. I mean like magic. That time of the month most of the magic I secrete drains out in the blood, so harvesting my sweat then is pretty pointless. Nobody buys that anymore. That’s when I take a shower. To wash away the useless sweat so I don’t taint “muh goods”.
Him: Oh. That’s pretty cool. I didn’t know people could sweat magic… How does that work?
Me: Well, first of all, it won’t work for you. I’m 230 years old. I what some people call “a witch”. My tears are stronger, but I don’t have a soul so I can’t cry.
Him: What happened to your soul?
Me: I sold it back in 1852 for a dress and a cheeseburger.
Him: Wow. Crazy.
Me: Only a little bit. But it’s mostly harmless unless you’re standing between me and a midget.
Me: Never mind. I’m not really a witch. I’m just getting some pull-ups for my daughter on my way home from work.
Him: Oh. So… uhh… you wanna hang out sometime or something?
Are you freaking kidding me?!? Is this guy really for real? Is this what the future looks like? If they’ve gotten this much stupider since I was his age – what the hell hope is there for my two daughters?!? I’ll have to have step-dad teach them to like boobs, I guess. I will slap those girls if they ever bring something like this guy home…
Me: That’s really sweet of you, but I’m not really looking for new friends right now.
Him: Why is that?
Me: Because between my job, three kids, a dog, a cat, a chinchilla, a boyfriend, and all the friends I already have that I don’t keep in touch with enough as it is – I really don’t have time for SANITY. Let alone for you.
Him: So, I can’t buy you a coffee or something sometime?
Yup. This guy is for real. He really is that dumb! I have to make it stop before my head explodes. I can tell that my ramblings are being completely wasted on this stranger. I would be better off having this conversation with a goat. At least I could pretend that the goat was saying something awesome.
Me: No. But thank you.
Him: Are you sure? I’m buying…
I glare at him like it’s Christmas eve and this guy just grabbed the last Hello Kitty anything on the shelf.
“I think I’m good.”, I say while rolling my eyes, hoping that he will sense my lack of interest and avoid getting himself stabbed with my car keys by getting the hell out of my bubble.
FINALLY! It’s over. He walks away. I never mind getting an opportunity to mess with someone’s head a little bit, but I like them to have an I.Q. of more than 7. Or at least a sense of humor.
And then it happens. He stops. Turns around. And says “So, what about the polar bears?”
Oh, you poor little moron… “There are no polar bears, darling.”
Him: looking confused, yet again: Oh…
It. Was. Amazing!
Things like this are the reason I go shopping at night… Things like this also make me wish that I were somewhat religious so that I could pray for my daughters to find something “not that guy”.
So, what about you? What’s the most ridiculous way someone has tried to pick you up at random?