There I was, selling beer and drinks to a couple thousand shivering patrons at the Dave Matthews Concert last weekend, almost to the end of my shift in the freezing rain. Small talk is my forte, so I was having no trouble handling the drunk crowd. I was even “raking in” the tips, which was exciting until I realized I had to split them with about 20 other people.
A slightly intoxicated man came over with his buddy and ordered a few drinks at my register. As I cheerfully and excitedly did his bidding (you can see the sarcasm text right?), he causally leaned against the counter and said, “You know, if you didn’t have a boyfriend, I’d be trying to take you home right now.”
Now, a normal person would probably wink and return the compliment with a clever quip. I, on the other hand, giggled like a schoolgirl and completely avoided the topic. I was so embarrassed I didn’t even think to ask him why he just assumed I had a boyfriend (and come to think of it, that would have been a good start to flirting). My complete and utter lack of flirting ability struck again. I mean, I definitely wouldn’t have flirted with this particular guy, but the ability to actually do so would have been nice.
Which brings me to today. After casually informing my housemate about how I lost nearly all the water in my body last night through sweat, thanks to the flannel sheets still on my bed, she promptly went to her parents house and brought back a selection of summer sheets.
Me being me, I promptly selected the bright, colorful one, saying, “These are bad-ass. Thanks!”
It was only after I stripped off the flannel and remade the bed that I paused, looked down at my new decor and commented to my housemate: “You know, this is probably why I’m still single.”