Under Surveillance

About A Girl

Once upon a time, I was in a video store with my then boyfriend trying to pick out a movie to watch. I picked up John Carpenter's Vampires, and proceeded to tell the boy about the coolest scene in the movie, where a guy uses his hot-from-being-fired gun to cauterize a wound he received. Said boyfriend looks at me, shakes his head, and says, "You're not like other girls, Betty."

Name::Braindead Betty
From::Indy, Indiana, United States

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Friday, July 28, 2006

A different UPS driver than normal came into our work today. After he left, the warehouse manager said he was “totally checking (me) out.” I have a problem sharing her conviction. He was probably thinking, “Why is this woman wearing shorts? Doesn’t she realize if the sun hits her legs at the right angle, the glare could blind everybody here?”

Unfortunately, I have to take the warehouse manager’s word for it. I am notorious for not realizing when a guy is hitting on me. Jay alternately gets really frustrated and immensely amused by it. He is forever awkwardly butting into my conversations at the bar because he feels protective of me. I’m surprised he hasn’t resorted to hiking his leg and pissing on me before we go in, just to say, “She’s my territory. Other guys back off.” (Okay, okay, he’s not that unreasonable.) It’s actually kind of cute watching his completely inept attempts at acting casual.

The last time we went out, I was so proud of myself though. A guy came up and started talking to me, and the first thing he said was something along the lines of, “Surely you’re not here by yourself?” to which I, being the wonderful wife that I am, replied, “I sure am baby, let’s go back to your place!” Okay, that’s not really the way it went. I let him know that my husband was there. I told Jay about it later, very proud of myself and my observation skills. Jay looked at me, announced that he’s known that guy for years, and that he’s gay. The guy, not Jay.

So much for my powers of observation.