I stopped inside a gas station the other morning on the way to work. It was around 6:30, I had left early in order to buy a Yankee Swap $3.99 Christmas present for the office party — I was buying $3.00 in lotto tickets and a 99 cent beef jerkey stick, fyi — when the inspiration for this blog hit me. Well, actually, it hit on me.
When I left the house I felt cute. I had styled my signature blonde hair naturally, letting it be wavy rather than stick-straight. I wore a skirt, leggings, and knee high boots along with a brand new pair of leg warmers. I was dressed in red and feeling festive (clearly this is prior to the Death Flu that consumed me literally hours later!), and I bopped into the convenience store to make my purchase. I walked to the back of the store first, grabbed a drink for myself, then swiped a jerky stick off the shelf and waited patiently in line.
A younger guy behind the counter greeted me. He looked about my age. I requested the three lotto tickets and we made small talk about my choices in beverage, food, and entertainment that morning and I explained myself. “I’m buying this for a Christmas party, not for personal use!” I laughed. And he sort of looked at me. “Well, I guess that doesn’t make me look any better, bringing this as a gift to a party, huh? It’s a gag gift..” I trailed off. He jumped on it.
“You look great.” He held my change tightly and wasn’t letting it go without a fight, I could tell.
“Ha. Thanks. Retro legwarmer day I suppose..” I was nervous. At this point I wanted my change and wanted to get out of the gas station as fast as possible when wearing heeled boots and leg warmers.
“Where do you work?” He pressed. Pressed? No, it was friendly, but I wasn’t in the mood for this at 6:30 in the middle of a gas station. So I told him the truth. And he was impressed.
Finally, I reached in for my change, seemingly hours later, he opened his mouth as I grabbed my dollar-seventy-six. “Could I get your number, maybe call you sometime?”
It’s just…I can’t say that he’s positively not my type. I don’t know him well enough to know. He wasn’t bad looking, but he wasn’t good looking either. But for some reason, I just did not want to share the digits with him. Maybe it was early, maybe I wasn’t attracted to him, maybe I’m a snob. I don’t know.
But there was no good way out of this. The classic “I don’t give out my number” seemed played out, but that’s what I used. “I don’t really give out my number, but I stop at this gas station a lot, so maybe you’ll get lucky sometime?”
I wince as I write those words. “get lucky sometime”? Gross, Blonde. Gross.
So this is where I turn to you, readers, and say “Lead me!” That is, after all, the name of this blog, isn’t it? How do you decline giving out your digits? Do you just give them out freely? Am I being lame?
I considered having business cards made with a gmail address on them..so I could give out my first name and email address to suitors who didn’t deserve the entire digit priviledge but seemed like worthy emailers. Am I overthinking this?