Saturday, November 11, 2006

The Next Generation

Court and I went shopping for holiday foodstuffs straight after work a few weeks back. It was late, we were both beat, and thank God we only had a few armfulls of junk to buy, cuz I think blood would have run from my ears if I'd have had to wait in line. We hit the Express Lane behind a hottie Latino. Shaved head, high cheekbones, big, gorgeous brown eyes. Definitely the type you don't mind seeing naked in your bedroom with the lights low.

As he's turning to leave the register, he runs smack into the empty shopping cart parked behind him, nudges it out of the way, and keeps on walking.

"Um, excuse me," I say, hands on the cart, moving it towards him. The implied message, of course: Aren't you forgetting something?

He spins around, flashes a million-dollar smile, puts his hands up on the classic I-didn't-touch-it move, and says,"Oh, that ain't mine," then spins again and keeps on walking walkin. He didn't even break his stride.

I sigh, shake my head, and continue on behind the guy out the sliding glass doors. He watches me walk over and put the cart away, then flashes that smile again. I curled my lip and snorted at him, thinking, "Sure, it's easy enough to look at, but I bet it leaves its underwear in the floor."

Don Juan sort of raises his brows - surprised, I guess, that I don't turn into a puddle of girl-goo right there in the shopping mart entrancyway.

When I got back in, Court was laughing. "So, what did he say?"

"Nothin'." I shrugged. "Not a damn thing." As we walked out to the car, we both laughed about it. "And you wonder why I date older men? They don't do things like that."

"Yeah, but most of 'em are old enough to be your dad!"

"True," I concede, "but at least they're not completely unconscious."

Court stopped dead in her tracks, grocery bags dangling at her sides. "You're gonna blog about this, aren't you?"

Yup. I sure am.

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