Number of pick-up lines since moving to Canada in Feb: Males: 39 Females: 2 (Finally I got a cute girl giving me a line today, woo hoo!).
I have noticed over the last week or two that the more ill or traumatized I am, the more attractive I become to guys. Case in point: last week I had a horrid morning which I spent crying. When I finally leave the house to go to the library, three different guys flirt with me in the four blocks to the library including one who walks beside me introducing himself. Puffy eyes must be really sexy in this part of the world.
Last ferry ride, I was so sesick I had to stare straight ahead and pray for a bucket. Immediately a guy comes over telling me “he’s seen me before but this time he decided he was going to talk to me.” So he “chats” for 90 minutes, including standing up in front of me so we can have “eye contact.” By the time I get home he’s already emailed me.
Then there was a couple days ago, I go to the fencing club with cramps so bad I’m forcing myself to stand straight. Immediately a guy says, “Looking lovely, Beautiful.” Later I tell Linda, and she says, “Maybe it wasn’t flirting, maybe he is just one of those people who calls everyone Beautiful.” Really? Then why did he next offer to show me the tattoo above his buttocks? Linda admits he probably doesn’t show that to everyone. Flirting!
Linda thinks that I get a “vulnerable” look that brings out something in guys. I think it more likely that when I am down or ill I lose my maniacal eye gleam which indicates an ever-present capacity for violence; I look docile. Act now buddy, because that’s not lasting long.
Today I’m walking to the post office with this cute blonde 20’s female walking her fluffy little white dog in front of me. She glances back, sees me and then does a prolonged lingering double take. She stops and as I approach she leans toward me. “I’m sorry,” she says, “I thought you were the girl from America’s Next Top Model, that’s why I did the double take.” Later I realize that I will never get a better opening line in this life. NEVER! Do I say, “Yes, I’m heading to a photo shoot, do you want to come?” or “I get that all the time. You want to go get a coffee?” No. No, I say, “Uh...Sorry, I don’t have a TV.” She laughs nervously, I laugh nervously and we part, leaving me to kick myself for the next two hours.
I spend, what, weeks complaining that I can’t get any girls who want to pick me up; suddenly it’s spotlight time with the cute and perky girl in with the blond ponytail asking me if I’m THAT model and...I clutch. It’s okay, I tell myself. Linda would have ripped off my lips if they touched another girl. And besides, femmes with fluffy, white dogs are high maintenance. I’m lucky things didn’t progress. If I keep telling myself that, one day I’ll believe it.
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1 hour ago