Walking back to my office after my perfectly wonderful lunch date with Andrew, I found myself walking towards a Patrick Dempsey wannabe. The sidewalk gets very narrow and overgrown with weeds at this point in my journey, and he steps aside to let me pass.
"Ladies, first," he says with a big smile.
I politely return the smile, avoiding eye-contact, as I make my way closer to my office.
"Hey, are you a student here.... or do you work here...?" he asks desperately.
Already fifteen minutes late, I glance at my watch and say exasperatedly, "Um... I work here." Cutting him off from his next question, I quickly say, "Hey, I'm sorry. I'm running late. I have to go."
As I make my getaway, he shouts, "Hey! Maybe I could call you sometime? We could get some dinner?"
I'm astonished because I really have not been hit on in ages and honestly rendered speechless.
"Or do you have a boyfriend, maybe?"
"Yes! Boyfriend. I have a boyfriend," I said quickly as I walked away. As I turned the corner, I realize my colleague has possibly overheard the entire exchange. She smiles at me. I take off my sunglasses (Ray-Bans, for all you haters out there). I give a sheepish grin--and say, "I was just hit on. It was totally weird. I am never hit on. I am really good at putting that "I'm-taken-vibe" out there."
"That just means you still got it," she said with a smirk.
"Yeah! I still got it," I said, running my fingers through my hair.