So I was getting my nails fixed up at a chop shop in the mall today when this one customer walked in. The sign in sheet was next to my station so it was pretty natural to look up and smile or at least acknowledge the customers as they walked in.
I turned to smile up at this one customer as she signed in, and became immediately infatuated with her. Like, abnormally drawn to her.
She was maybe 40-ish. African American. She came in with a younger African American guy (her son?), and a 40-ish White guy (her husband?). The husband guy made a wisecrack to the nail tech about needing twice as long for her nails, and they laughed (me too. The nail tech was detached and dispassionate about the joke. But she's Korean, so...), and then he waited on the floor outside...but there were chairs in the salon...?
I don't get men.
So back to the woman. She had this sort of captivating warmth. An effervescence that was impossible to ignore. She seemed funny and kind and open and personable, but she hadn't really said more than two words...so why would I think that?
I found myself staring in her direction several times, mentally checking off ways to strike up a conversation. I just felt like I needed to know her.
It hit me - this is what guys in bars do when they see a hot girl. All that was missing was my mug of beer, a cheesy pick up line and an aversion to pepper spray.
But I was working on that part.
Eh...the pick up line, that is. Not the pepper spray thing.
I tried to catch her eye on a few occasions and strike up a conversation. What would I even say? Nothing. I seriously couldn't come up with anything to say. And I'm glad I didn't try. I would sound like a stuttering idiot.
Realizing my sudden infatuation, I started watching other customers to see if anyone else was trying to woo her (or pay for her drinks). No one else seemed affected. For now. I had to swoop her up quickly, before any of these other clowns noticed her.
I never did come up with anything more than stupid smiles at her, and feigned interest in what her nail tech was doing.
Once I sat under the hand blower thingy, she complimented my nails and asked me what service I'd received.
Yes! My chance, at last! The hot girl chats up the creepy guy ogling her from the corner of the bar!
Now what? What do I say? What do guys in bars do when the hot girl finally notices them?
Do I ask her if she comes here often? Do I flash the Mercedes keychain I got from the dollar store? Do I adjust my crotch and ask if she wants to come back to my place? Do I tell her that I think Chinese women are hot?
Okay. Shh! It's my chance. Here we go...
"Oh, thanks! Well, um, I got the shellac clear stuff instead of color. Are you getting shellac? I like that it dries. I'm dying for pizza. Is there still a pizza place downstairs? That's why I love shellac. It dries like instantly. Cause who wants nail polish in your pizza sauce? But the clear stuff that looks kind of pink. Pink but clear, sort of? And then I got the American manicure. But not the straight white French one. The American one is softer. One coat. 'Cuz I added glitter polish to the American. But the lighter glittery type. I don't usually like glitter. Do you like glitter?..."
WOW. Did NOT see that coming.
Rambling like a sonuvabeech.
I'm giving club guys way more credit from now on.
I shoulda stuck with the Mercedes keychain idea.
Edited on 1/28/14
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