As seen on Facebook

I have got to stop cross-contaminating my storytelling devices (ie posting the same things on Twitter as I do on Facebook and my blog). You may have already heard this story from my status message this weekend on Facebook, but even if you did, you didn't hear the whole story, so here it is.

Four years ago I started working in Columbus, Ohio. One of the first weekends I was out in Columbus, I went to a bar called Brothers with some friends from my training class. Brothers has a large outdoor patio. They specialize in $1 shots some nights of the week - this might tell you what kind of bar it is and what kind of people patronize Brothers (but I was there, so what can I say). Let's just say it was a good bar to use to transition from college to professional life. And again I use the term professional loosely as it relates to my job.

So my friends and I were standing in a large circle on this outdoor patio and a guy comes up, taps me on the shoulder (kind of aggressively, actually), and says "Hello, you are looking very cool tonight" with a thick accent. I said thanks and tried to go back to my conversation...he persisted. He introduced himself as "Ali-sahn" and stood there talking to me until I gave him a phone number (fake) to get him to leave. He then said "I'll call you right now so you have my number" and I said "Oh I don't have service right now so it must not be coming through" (honestly, men, if this ever happens to you, it is a SURE SIGN that she is fake-numbering you. Just delete the number immediately). Life went on, but my friends and I never forgot the legend of the guy-named-Alison-who-said-you-are-looking-very-cool-tonight. NOR have I forgotten that my friend Paul who was standing next to me at the time did NOT pretend to be my boyfriend to get that CREEP to go away.

Fast forward 4 years to this past Saturday night. I was feeling preeeeetty bad for myself because a guy who I wanted to call me hadn't (he has since gotten in touch and claims he had the wrong phone number for me...I don't know if I buy it, but he's getting the benefit of the doubt for the moment), so I went to Trader Joe's, by myself, at 8 pm on a Saturday night. I am the ultimate of cool, in case you were wondering.

In my self-pity-frenzy, I buy the following (let's see how good my memory is):
apple slices
garlic hummus (love)
2 bags of pretzel thins
1 bag of pita chips
cheese sticks
2 frozen pizzas
sugar snap peas
gallon of milk (this becomes important)
3 frozen-indian-food meals
2 bags of salad greens

Ok I think that's it. Regardless, I buy all of these groceries and I'm struggling to get from the store to my car with two full bags in one hand and my car keys + gallon of milk in the other hand. I exit the store and walk past a guy who appears to be kind of confused (he's just kind of lingering by the entrance). As I walk by he says "Excuse me, miss?" and I turn, thinking that he's lost (he has a foreign accent, and there's a hotel next to Trader Joe's, snap judgement). Guess what he says to me.

No really, just guess.

"You are looking very nice tonight."

Do you see where this story is going?

It was the same mother-effing dude. He, again, talks to me for a solid 5 minutes, even though I repeatedly shift my weight, indicating how uncomfortable I am standing there with my pounds and pounds of groceries, not to mention frozen and refrigerated goods. He says to me "I'm surprised you didn't ask about my accent, I'm French Guinea" to which I thought "I didn't ask because I don't effing care," but to which I replied with some unintelligible bit of murmuring. I mean, at LEAST the guy has updated the word from cool to nice in 4 years, but COME ON.

He asked for my phone number, and I again gave him my go-to fake number.

My life has reached an all-time low.

I mean, yeah, I should be flattered that the same person (really, that ANY person) found me attractive enough multiple times to work up the nerve to speak to me and put himself out there in that way, but COME ON PEOPLE. First of all, women do not appreciate being picked up SO BLATANTLY solely on the basis of their looks. He knew nothing about me aside from the fact that I shopped at Trader Joe's on a Saturday night by myself (scent of desperation?) and that I am female. Oh, and that I wear casual clothing. The end. To me, that is not a good enough reason to ask someone for their phone number, but maybe I just need to carpe my diem a little more. I don't know.

But before you ask, no, I do not for even a second feel bad for giving this guy a fake number. I have zero interest in ever seeing him again, but maybe I'll just give it 4 more years and see how it goes next time around.