Friday, April 18, 2008

The European Goddess

For some weird reason, I must give off some odor that instantly attracts middle-aged European weirdos. I'm assuming my European perfume is a teaspoon of Diet Coke, 2 cups Oatmeal, and a sprinkle of "I have places to go and no desire to bullshit" dressing. But still, in just two weeks alone, I was literally stopped in my tracks to be chatted up upon.

One Friday afternoon, I was rushing to Penn Station because I was going to Middletown for the weekend. Juggling bags on my shoulder, I noticed a Spanish dude walking by my side, willing with his eyes for me to look in his direction.

(In heavy Spanish accent) Escoose me, but you look very familiar, do you go to Bah-ryant Pahk ever?
Me: Not in a while.
SD: Did you go to EN WHY YUU? Maybe that's were I've seen you....I teach Engleesh as a second language and blah blah....yadda yaddaing.

All the while, I was looking frantically around, trying to lock eyes with someone to rescue me or rob me, so at least distract the Spanish man and I could make my escape.

So finally he stopped and asked where I was going and if I was running late.

Me: Down to NJ and yes late late late.

From here, he got into another speech about teaching in NJ and being down in, get this, MIDDLETOWN.

SD: Ghave you ever been to MEEDLETOWN?
Me: Nope, NEVER. (Or I may have just grown up there, but whatever. We did not need to share something in common. I could only imagine how late I would have gotten back to NJ then).

FINALLY after a good 20 minutes of him jabbering and me painfully listening, I said- I NEED to go, fine take my number.

And apparently he called me 8 times.

Can I show my face in Bryant Park this year? Hmm I better cut and dye my hair and become incognito.

A week or so later, I decided it was too nice a day to sit indoors and should take a little stroll down Fifth Ave. I headed to H&M to look around for a new clutch. Or a dress. Or a nice shirt. Maybe a bracelet. Or all of the above.

I turned to my right and there was a middle-aged, maybe 50ish, Italian business man smiling at me. He began to walk with me and chat me up about my day. Within our 10 minute conversation, he

a) told me how cute I was, over and over and over again
b) that he worked in the diamond business and wanted to buy me jewelry "you like jewelry? (while kissing my hand), I will get for you".
c) that he would take me to Jamaica soon
d) wanted to wine and dine me
e) hugged me
f) kissed me hand
g) hugged me again
h) waved his friend over so they could bask in the glow of my beauty
i) said he would come with me to NJ for Easter because he wanted to spend time with me
j) couldn't understand why I wouldn't allow him to come to my parents home
k)oh, another hug, and then brushed his hand across my face, while saying, "so cute, so beautiful. I like you. I need to take you on a date.
l) said that Hoboken wasn't too far and I could still see him in the city.
m) because I didn't and still don't possess "don't give him my number" skills with Europeans, he got my number and I wasn't surprised when I got a phone call a week later.
n) said, I like you. I like. I LIKE you. I NEED to see you tonight. Yes, we will go out tonight.

He could easily be my sugar daddy. Unfortunately, I don't think I'd be a very good gold digger without being highly intoxicated every time we met up. I'd be getting paid to be a wealthy alcoholic. Don't get me wrong. He was a very attractive Italian diamond business man, but he was like the same age as my parents.

Maybe I should go on a date with him. We'll go to Jamaica and party, so he said.

Yet another reason why I'm single. Where are all the beautiful Brits? Why aren't they radiating towards me. Oh no no, of course I'm the sun for a certain brand of Europeans who are corny and overly-affectionate.

1 comment:

Anonymous said...

You are too nice. If any of these wacko's came near me I'd kick them right in the balls... That's just me. Good luck and BE CAREFUL out there.