- Gender and Relationships
The Twenty-Something Kid At The Sandwich Place Hit On Me, There’s ANOTHER Place I Have To Avoid!
I’m not being modest when I say that I don’t get hit on. I don’t even remember the last time someone actually hit on me and while I’ll admit that since I’m not looking for romance that perhaps I’m just oblivious to anyone hitting on me…but I doubt that very much. When you’ve been with someone for almost half of your life as I have I think you just emit some sort of scent or pheromone that lets people know that you’re one half of the oldest monogamous gay couple in history or something (yes, I think that scents can be that sophisticated) But yesterday there was no mistaking what the guy behind the counter was selling and it wasn’t just a baguette. The twenty-something kid at the sandwich place hit on me, there’s ANOTHER place I have to avoid! – Don’t Get Me Started!
Let me give you a little history here. The place in question is a national chain so I don’t want to mention their name or get anyone in trouble but if you think fresh bread and use a little imagination you can probably come up with the name, Mr. or Ms. Holmes! I often get catering done through them as they prepare their gourmet sandwiches in a great way for office luncheons. (Yes, another clue my Dear Watson) So I’ve grown to know the staff and they know me. I purposely am overly friendly because they have saved my ass more than once when I needed a rush catering job due to this “friendship” I have cultivated. The kid in question I think is a manager there and he has often helped me to get my order packaged to go. (For the first time in my life, no double entendre intended) When I call in an order I always know it’s him because as I’ve written about before, if you want good guest service you have to find the gay or what I like to call the GBN – Gay Boys’ Network. Although I’ll take a lot of heat for this one, you know when you’re talking to someone in the “network” when you hear the sibilant “s” on the other end. And lest you think I’m throwing stones, I’m sure that people recognize my sibilant “s” when they talk to me – which by the way, is not an affectation but something I’ve dealt with my whole life, even causing people to call me “Miss” on the phone ALL THE TIME.. I’ve also been called Miss in person, even when I have stubble on my chin but I think that has something to do with being Cleopatra in my past life or something and some of my feminine appeal just carried over into this life (yes, I’m kidding).
Anyway, the kid in question I deal with all the time and he usually answers the phone. When he answers the phone I always know it’s him, saying his name as you would when you recognize a friend’s voice on the other end of the phone. Over the two years that I’ve been going there (at least once a week) believe me when I say the conversation has always been strictly orders, additional cookies and a reprimand for whatever was inevitably left out of the last order I picked up there. All business until today.
As I was waiting for my order to be assembled I happened to mutter out loud that I had just found out I needed to go to one of those cupcake stores for someone’s birthday at work and didn’t know if I could get there and back to the office in time for the lunch but I was going to try my damndest. The kid in question (who was unfortunately not helped by his parents by giving him a name normally associated with females) I’ll call him “Cruz” a name I’ve never heard but was the first thing that came up when looking for unisex names of a certain origin and does fit the situation as that’s what he did to me. Hearing my frustration about the cupcakes and mock yelling at Cruz for not having them there so that I wouldn’t have to make an additional stop he began telling me about a place that has “the best cake in the world” but then added that it was far from this location. “Thanks. Big help there.” I said with all the sarcasm normally associated with me. As I used the “Where” application on my iPhone to find the nearest cupcake place Cruz continued to talk about other places and I nodded and smiled in all the proper places until I lifted the phone to my ear to dial the Land of Cupcakes or whatever it was called to find out where the hell they were located. As I listened to the recorded message telling me of the six thousand cupcake varieties before they mentioned the location, Cruz was still talking. I couldn’t tell you what he was talking about until he said, “Ssso SScott, what clubss do you go?” I was like, “What? Sorry, I know it’s rude to be on the phone but I’ve got to figure out where this place is – what did you say, Cruz?” He repeated, “Ssso SScott, what clubs do you go?” As only I can I said, “Clubs? Are you kidding me? I’m too old for the clubs, I’m forty-five.” With this Cruz leaned over the counter and said, “Oh Ssscott, you’re no too ol’.” The look in his eyes meant only one thing, he wanted me like I wanted to eat every pastry in his case at the moment (Yet another unintended double entendre that just slipped out – oh, that’s one too, right?) I can’t remember what I said next but I’m sure the look of shock and being appalled all at that same time that washed across my face told the tale. Not appalled because he isn’t attractive, on the contrary but I’m not in the market for romance and if I was, I’d care more about how attractive someone’s checkbook is than their head of hair. I looked at my watch and then yelled down the entire restaurant to “Ashley” who was getting my order ready, “What are you, killing that soup back there?”as I raced to the back of the store. When I got my order and passed the front counter again, Cruz was not there and it wasn’t until after I got in my car that it all hit me that I had just been hit on.
I don’t have a choice, I’ll go in there again but right now I just feel sort of yucky about the whole thing. Was I rude? Did I hurt his feelings? Does this mean no extra goodies for no charge from here on in? (The REAL issue) I don’t know, I just know that it may be awkward the next time I see Cruz. But what gets me more than anything was that I didn’t even get to enjoy being hit on by a twenty-something because I was in such haste. When is that going to happen again? Curse you damn cupcakes! The twenty-something kid at the sandwich place hit on me, there’s ANOTHER place I have to avoid! – Don’t Get Me Started!
Read More Scott @ www.somelikeitscott.com