“Hi, my name’s Melissa and I think you’re a very attractive man. Not that I want to take you to bed or anything; I just thought you should know.”
This – is something I would never say. Not ever. Not in a box. Not with a fox. I would not say it here or there. I would not say it anywhere. So when I called my friend earlier, just to tell her about the tall, dark and handsome sitting outside Starbucks, the GQ hottie I surreptitiously glanced at every 3.5 seconds, her suggestion that I walk up to him and say those exact words elicited a most unladylike snort of laughter from yours truly.
She must have lost her damn mind, I thought, because I knew she was being serious. She wouldn’t hesitate to approach a guy in this manner; that’s just who she is. But me? A woman who blushes if a man smiles at her? A woman who squeaks like a mouse on helium if he says, “How’s it going”? Yeah, I’d rather be trapped in Terminus, thank you very much.
What I wouldn’t give for the kind of confidence my friend possesses. What I wouldn’t give to be able to wink at a handsome bloke, and say, “Hey, good lookin’. How’s about you and I hit the town?” What I wouldn’t give to just be able to say “hello.”