This story begins three years ago. It was an ordinary day and I needed to use an ATM. I stopped by the Publix and used one of the outdoor ATMs. On my way back to my car, I noticed something glistening in the hot, bright, summer sun. It was a small, partially opened bag of glitter. There’s a Michael’s in this shopping center so a valid assumption would be that it came from there and via happenstance some poor soul dropped the baggie on the ground. If you’re not familiar with what a Michael’s is, try to imagine a mecca of shit women really, really, really love. OK, now take away the food. Right, now subtract Oprah. We’re on the right track here, remove the Danielle Steele novels.
Bingo, arts and crafts paraphernalia.
…I overlooked the daddy issues she had tramp stamped on her lower back.
Naturally, I did what any normal human being in my situation would do. I pocketed the shit out of that glitter. You never know when you’ll need glitter, and having a pocket full of it is like having a… pocket full of glitter. I had trouble with a good metaphor on that one, I spent like 15 seconds trying to think of something, arose to grab myself a bottle of fine Guinness Draught, and promptly gave up. I hope you forgive me, it’s been a long day.
With the glitter in my pocket I proceeded along with my day. What followed was a typical day, that is, until I wanted to buy myself a book. I made my way to this BN since I was nearby. I perused the books when out of the corner of my eye I saw a cute girl. Oh she was so adorable, not at all my type, but she had a nice butt and pretty hair so I overlooked the daddy issues she had tramp stamped on her lower back. She also happened to work there.
I have this rule: Don’t hit on women while they’re working. Just don’t fucking bother people with personal shit while they’re working because you’re not special and every other mundane fuck out there thinks he’s special when he flirts with the cute waitress.
So I hit on her. I asked for her help and made with the joking banter. She was digging it and inevitably asked me for my name. I said “Orlando…” and I followed it up with what I consider the stupidest flirting move anyone has ever pulled ever. I reached into my pocket and pulled out a handful of glitter. I perfectly synchronized throwing this handful into the air with the next words that left my mouth:
“Like Orlando Magic.”
Then I had this “oh, right, I’m an asshole” moment.
GLITTER EVERYWHERE. Why did I do this? I thought it would be so stupid it would make her laugh, and perhaps pity or subjective humor would entice her to bed me. I pride myself (or, I used to) in pushing the envelope when it comes to courting. This, I learned about a second after the magical thrust of pixie dust, was not one of those situations.
Like I said, glitter everywhere. Mostly her face.
“OWWWW MY EYE, MY EYE, MY EYE!!”
Glitter to the face. Was I a gentleman? No. I walked out. Not just walked out, speed walked. That thing that 50-year-old women do to stay in shape? My escape technique. I acted completely oblivious to this girl and the fact that I just maced her with sparkling iridescent plastic bits.
I hadn’t set foot in that Barnes & Noble since, and I’ve told this story of utter failure to a select few. Until now.
Today I went back in this store since I was in the neighborhood and wanted to celebrate an oddly successful meeting by treating myself to a book. I had, for the most part, forgotten all about what happened here for a brief moment until I entered. Then I had this “oh, right, I’m an asshole” moment. I didn’t turn around and leave because I assumed after 3 years this girl wouldn’t still be working here. I was right.
But ass-fuckingly-enough, she just happened to be shopping. I can’t make this crap up. Not only was she there, but she wasted no time in walking toward me with a deterministic demeanor. I wanted to bless her with a little déjà vu and speed walk out of there, but I couldn’t. I was so painstakingly shocked by the fact that this utter horseshit was happening that I couldn’t even move. I stood there and looked at her like she had just fingered my inner child’s asshole right in front of me. When she finally arrived and stood right in front of me, in all her 5’4″ +/- 1″ glory, looking up at me with victory in her eyes, I felt defeated and emasculated. We’re face-to-face. She’s totally invading my personal space in a way that her eyelashes could probably tickle my chest if she really tried, and she says, “hey Glitter, what the fuck?”
She didn’t seem mad. She just had this slight look of disapproval, and I frankly expected her to kick me in the balls at the very least. I wasn’t sure how to respond to that. I didn’t put much thought into what I said next. I think I defaulted into snarky-Orlando-mode. I looked at her plainly and just said:
“…did you at least get the joke?”
She literally busted out laughing. Then she walked away. Fucking crazy.
Oh and Barnes & Noble has lots of books and stuff. Check them out.
People who would enjoy it
People who would not enjoy it
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