GORGEOUS GUYS WILL BE THE DEATH OF ME.
And then we have the nights when I don't even realize that a guy is being approachable.
*sigh*
I killed my water bottle on the way out the door from work last night, so I stopped at Green Village Food Market on my way down the street to the train station.
There were a bunch of guys who came in behind me, chattering in a foreign language as I made my way to the cooler cases and they stopped at the front counter where the gum and candy is kept. I had one ear on the conversation, trying to identify the language they were speaking, because I am endlessly fascinated by speech and I love knowing what certain languages, or even accents, might be.
Even though I have a fairly good ear, I couldn't figure it out, but by the time I got to the counter to pay, they had switched to English, anyway.
Of course, the guy in front of me at the register was totally my type: couldn't have been better unless someone stamped FOR MEL on his forehead. He was tall and built for starters, with the kind of light sandy hair that you just know was carroty when he was a kid, fair-skinned with the tiny freckles dotted across his face that come from the sun-- you know, Jensen Ackles-type freckles, dammit-- and pale eyes that could have been blue or green, but looked golden in the fluorescent light.
Did I mention that he was WEARING A TUXEDO?
*is ded*
So, I have this problem with attractive men. We all remember the tale of Hot Tattoed Guy In Target, right?
Yeah, basically, the equation goes like this:
HOT GUY = BRAIN SHUTDOWN
So when he dropped his money and I saw where it landed, instead of just saying something out loud like a normal person would, my tongue was glued to the roof of my mouth and I just started reaching past him to point it out or maybe grab it and hand it to him.
Except that he spotted it, snapped it up, then noticed my reaching hand and glanced at me with a smile, saying jokingly, "Hey, trying to steal my money, I see that!"
Instead of being equally amusing and providing a witty comeback, I manage to unstick my tongue long enough to say, "No, I was actually going to tell you it was there."
Yeah. That's the kind of conversation just fucking guranteed to get a man's attention.
Whatever. At least I didn't start blushing. I just paid for my water and was on my way out of the store when hot guy and his companions started chattering away in that other language again....
And I couldn't stand it! My curiosity was piqued!
Clearly, my curiosity can overcome even THE BRAIN MELTDOWN OF DOOM, because I turned back and said, "I'm sorry, I don't mean to be rude, but I just have to know... what language are you speaking?"
And it was the hot guy who turned around with a smile and said, "Spanish."
Since everything that comes into my head comes out of my mouth, I said, "Really? It doesn't sound like Spanish."
And he actually turned towards me, body language all open and welcoming, big smile on his face, and started to say something else, and I chattered, "I guess it's not a dialect I've ever heard. Okay, well, thanks!"
AND I LEFT THE STORE.
*HEADDESK*
I was halfway down the street before my belated comon sense kicked in and subsequently kicked me in the ass with a hey STUPID, the guy was at least willing to TALK to you!
Sure, it doesn't mean that he would've been smitten with me or anything like that, but it might have been a nice chat. But no, I had to be completely overwhelmed and practically immobilized by the hotness and basically just act like a clueless freaking moron. Which I totally was.
I've been smacking myself upside the head all night.
And if I thump my head on my desk any more this morning, I'm gonna have a goose egg.
See, stupid behavior such as above? That is why I don't go to cons. Can you imagine the proportional meltdown that would take place if I were actually face-to-face with, you know, any ONE of my tv boyfriends?
Gonna go smack myself some more, now. KTHXBAI.
*sigh*
I killed my water bottle on the way out the door from work last night, so I stopped at Green Village Food Market on my way down the street to the train station.
There were a bunch of guys who came in behind me, chattering in a foreign language as I made my way to the cooler cases and they stopped at the front counter where the gum and candy is kept. I had one ear on the conversation, trying to identify the language they were speaking, because I am endlessly fascinated by speech and I love knowing what certain languages, or even accents, might be.
Even though I have a fairly good ear, I couldn't figure it out, but by the time I got to the counter to pay, they had switched to English, anyway.
Of course, the guy in front of me at the register was totally my type: couldn't have been better unless someone stamped FOR MEL on his forehead. He was tall and built for starters, with the kind of light sandy hair that you just know was carroty when he was a kid, fair-skinned with the tiny freckles dotted across his face that come from the sun-- you know, Jensen Ackles-type freckles, dammit-- and pale eyes that could have been blue or green, but looked golden in the fluorescent light.
Did I mention that he was WEARING A TUXEDO?
*is ded*
So, I have this problem with attractive men. We all remember the tale of Hot Tattoed Guy In Target, right?
Yeah, basically, the equation goes like this:
HOT GUY = BRAIN SHUTDOWN
So when he dropped his money and I saw where it landed, instead of just saying something out loud like a normal person would, my tongue was glued to the roof of my mouth and I just started reaching past him to point it out or maybe grab it and hand it to him.
Except that he spotted it, snapped it up, then noticed my reaching hand and glanced at me with a smile, saying jokingly, "Hey, trying to steal my money, I see that!"
Instead of being equally amusing and providing a witty comeback, I manage to unstick my tongue long enough to say, "No, I was actually going to tell you it was there."
Yeah. That's the kind of conversation just fucking guranteed to get a man's attention.
Whatever. At least I didn't start blushing. I just paid for my water and was on my way out of the store when hot guy and his companions started chattering away in that other language again....
And I couldn't stand it! My curiosity was piqued!
Clearly, my curiosity can overcome even THE BRAIN MELTDOWN OF DOOM, because I turned back and said, "I'm sorry, I don't mean to be rude, but I just have to know... what language are you speaking?"
And it was the hot guy who turned around with a smile and said, "Spanish."
Since everything that comes into my head comes out of my mouth, I said, "Really? It doesn't sound like Spanish."
And he actually turned towards me, body language all open and welcoming, big smile on his face, and started to say something else, and I chattered, "I guess it's not a dialect I've ever heard. Okay, well, thanks!"
AND I LEFT THE STORE.
*HEADDESK*
I was halfway down the street before my belated comon sense kicked in and subsequently kicked me in the ass with a hey STUPID, the guy was at least willing to TALK to you!
Sure, it doesn't mean that he would've been smitten with me or anything like that, but it might have been a nice chat. But no, I had to be completely overwhelmed and practically immobilized by the hotness and basically just act like a clueless freaking moron. Which I totally was.
I've been smacking myself upside the head all night.
And if I thump my head on my desk any more this morning, I'm gonna have a goose egg.
See, stupid behavior such as above? That is why I don't go to cons. Can you imagine the proportional meltdown that would take place if I were actually face-to-face with, you know, any ONE of my tv boyfriends?
Gonna go smack myself some more, now. KTHXBAI.