Sunday, May 20, 2007

Close Encounters of the Prepubescent Kind…

I’ll admit it. I should have listened to my sister when I went out for food yesterday. She told me to go to Sonic. Her reasoning was that she was craving it. This reasoning only becomes funny when you know that we live four hours apart. Never let it be said I’m not a good sister, so it was to Sonic I was headed.

I'm going up the road towards Sonic and I see Jack in the Box across the street and suddenly Jack is calling my name. They have this new burger that I just love. I’ll spend a couple dollars more, but don't you always with Jack? So I change my destination and three lanes. What? I used a blinker.

This burger is mega customized so they always make me pull around front. Gotta keep those drive thru numbers low so the district manager who has never set foot in the store can keep his monthly bonus. But I digress.

So I'm sitting in the front and these two teenagers come out to smoke. I am pretty sure they aren't even old enough to have bought the cigarettes they are smoking. Then the chick's phone rings and it's her mom. She's telling her where she is and why. The usual check in kind of conversation so I know my age assessment is correct.

I knew for sure she was just a kid and the guy with her couldn’t be any older. I mean he looked like he didn't know what a razor was let alone have ever used one. Anyway, to kill time I whip out my book because a good geek always has a book. And I’m a damn good geek.

I’m reading a “Buffy The Vampire Slayer” book from the library and I’m really into it. I AM the slayer, you know? When this kid starts sliding over towards my car. I can see him out the corner of my eye and I’m thinking to myself that he either needs burping or wants to borrow five bucks for candy. The chick with him isn’t looking happy and she's trying to get her mom to let her go because she's got some SERIOUS puppy love crush thing going on this guy.

I can see it. He’s not bad. Spiked two-tone hair, tie dyed shirt, and that "I’m the playa" confidence. So he gets close to my car and I lower my book to smile at him. He gives me the "sup" nod and says, "Hey baby, what's your name?"

I’m so shocked that my mind goes blank. All I can think is, “My name is 'I’m old enough to have given birth to your still in puberty ass'.” I give him the slow blink and I’m trying to figure out where Ashton and the cameras are because I just KNOW I’m getting punked.

It has to be that because I’m sweaty and dirty from cleaning all day. My hair needs washing in a serious way. I’ve got the old white 'show a movie on my fat ass' shorts on and a t-shirt with a stain. I am not styling here.

So I’m still blinking at him and the geek girl in me is thinking, "Dude I am soooo blogging about this shit!". Puppy love chick is fuming and trying like hell to ditch her mom. With the smoothness that can only come from age I say, "Huh?"

Baby Mac-daddy kneels down and says, "You have a pretty smile. What’s your name?" and I blushed. Yup, I said blushed. Go ahead and laugh. My sister did when I told her this story after I got home. Laughed and begged me to blog about it. Now you know who to blame for this. And, T, thanks for the title! :)

Anyway, I look up and he's got these AMAZING blue eyes and I’m thinking, "Wow! God has a demented sense of humor!" When I finally remember how to speak, I say, "My name is Cheri and you're sweet but I’m old enough to be your mother." Then I add, "And I think your girlfriend is getting quite angry”

He says, "My name's Damon, she's not my girlfriend, and you couldn't possibly be old enough to be my mother." (Insert suave smile beyond his years here.) "You can't be older than 25."

It took ALL my strength to not laugh in his cute little face. I smile back at him and say, "That's also very sweet of you to say, but the truth is that I’ll be 39 in just over a month."

Here’s the quick slide show of emotions that cross his face – disbelief, horror, sadness, then elation. And I’m confused. That last one got me.

So he says, "Well I always wanted to go out with an older woman. I just hadn't decided how much older until now."

I’m freaking because I was expecting him to say he just decided that 39 was just too damn old, but then he leans just a bit further in the window, licks his lips, pulls out that suave smile again, and says, "So can I have your digits?"

My first thought was to say, “I was just about to give him my phone number when he called it digits. Who says shit like that?!” I haven’t heard that in years, but apparently it's making a comeback with our mislead youth. Frankly I was just happy that his pants were around his waist and not below his ass.

My brain is working overtime to think of a graceful way to tell him no when the Jack in the Box employee saved me by bring my food. I told him I had to go and watched as puppy love chick all but leapt into his arms as she hung up her phone.

He says, "Maybe I’ll see you around, gorgeous." And in true Fat Girl fashion, all I can think is that I can never go to Jack in the Box again. Well at least not that one. As I was pulling out I heard puppy love chick say, "But you're not even 18 yet!"

I’m still in shock. :P