That's what I was thinking when I was walking home from the gas station with my Sunday paper in hand.
It was around 5:30 in the evening (or is that afternoon?) and I was walking along a busy street in a nice neighborhood with beautiful homes and apartments. I was just wearing my jeans and a pink, non-descript top. It wasn't even tight, yo.
This dude pulls over his red Honda Civic, pops out of the car and throws up the hatch.
"Hi. I can't find my biology book."
Umm, okay. And I can help you how?
Then he says "I'm sorry, I've never done this before. But I saw you walking and you're so beautiful. I mean, I love your top. It's such a great color. (Gee, it's pink. How unusual.) I just had to stop and talk to you."
I was really kind of freaked out. What with his trunk being open and all. I didn't see any rope or duct tape in there, but I really didn't get too close to give it a thorough look-over. All I could think was, is this guy trying to pick me up? Do other guys resort to this totally bizzaro dating technique?
He went on to tell me he was in optometry school and that his name was Louai but I could call him Louie. He told me he was Syrian and that he was in love with curvy blondes.
I don't know that this curvy blonde was in love with him.
I gotta say, he had a charming personality, but I was just kind of freaked out so I tried to be as nice as possible to him for fear something crazy(ier) would happen.
He went on to tell me where he lived, where he worked, where he was interning, and how he just paid cash for his car a few months ago.
He asked me what kind of car I drove, where I worked, and what my phone number was.
Stupid bitch that I am, I told him everything. I am just a really bad liar, and I was so stunned by the whole fiasco that I was overly loquatious. It was like he had somehow injected me with truth serum or something.
Thank God he didn't ask me where I lived.
Louai went on to talk about fashion, asking what kind of clothes I like to wear and commenting on my preference in jewelry. He was comparing me to Marilyn Monroe and the other great, shapely women of the world. It was at that point in the conversation when I was begging God to strike me dead with a lightning bolt.
It's kind of odd. I didn't know whether to be really freaked out or flattered. This guy was either crazy or had balls the size of watermelons, or maybe a little bit of both.
He told me he would have stopped to talk to me in a bar, so he felt his pulling over on a busy street was equally reasonable. I have to say, I kind of question his judgement.
I feel really bad because I'm going to stand him up today. He thinks I'm going to be at a coffee shop in Hyde Park, when really I'm going to be either in my bed or on a walk.
I've never stood a guy up before.
Gee. I really messed up when he asked if I was single.
I could have said I was dating someone. I could have said I just had a bad break up or that I was a lesbian (though that's not always a deterrent, I imagine) or that I don't date. I could have been mean and bitchy or played really dumb.
How do I get myself into these messes?