Whenever I get hit on, and it's rare, my first reaction is to assume that it's a joke I don't get, or that I'm being made fun of. Once I get past that, I feel 10% flattered and 90% annoyed because I am just trying to be a person and you come along and make me laser-focused self-aware. Maybe it's the whole Groucho Marx wouldn't-want-to-belong-to-any-club-that-would-have-me-as-a-member thing. Chris Rock does a bit where he says that white women don't need to own scales, they'll know when they're getting big when a disproportionate number of black guys start hitting on them.
Time to hit the gym, then?
Time to hit the gym, then?
3 comments:
hahaha. ohh us curvy ladies have to watch it for the brothers.
Yeah...I think I hit the record my chubbiest of years in college.
I think I feel uncomfortable period in such situations though. I dont even like making eye contact for too long for fear of the leaning head and goofy smile that may come of it.
heh heh these encounters always seem to come at the worst times too- I'm walking down the street, listening to music, thinking about how pretty the sky looks and how warm my scarf is and then what? what? no thank you I did NOT asked to be visually assulted by lingering stares, thank you. Perfect moment ruined.
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