Saturday, April 30, 2011

Fate

I don't typically blog about my love life, or recent lack there of, however... One of the reasons I was pretty pumped to move to my beloved south has something to do with how I feel about southern gentlemen. That being said, I have a neighbor who is totally southern - Friendly, polite, dresses like a southerner, the whole nine yards. Sounds perfect, right?

It probably could be. Except that EVERY time I see him, I look ridiculous or do something embarrassing. A huge perk at the new gig is that on most days, we can dress casually. As you all know, any time I don't have to wear make-up, straighten my hair, or dress up, I definitely take full advantage. Therefore, 90% of the time I leave in the morning and come home at night, I'm wearing jeans, a t-shirt & a cardigan, no make-up and a pony tail. Inevitably, those are also always the days I see Mr. Happy Southern Boy.

Despite the fact that I rarely put myself together, I am even more of an embarrassment on weekend afternoons. Today, for example, I ventured out to grab some Subway for lunch wearing bright red Parkersburg High School sweat pants that I have cut into "capris", a THE Ohio State University (I know, repulsive. And I still have no idea why there is a THE involved) sweatshirt with a green shirt hanging out from under it, really cute strappy sandals and the Abby bun (all of my hair thrown up on the very top of my head.) Naturally, Mr. Happy Southern Boy was on his way out at the same time.

Two other gems that stand out to me (although, I've run into him looking like a fool many more times than that) include one morning that I was leaving for work, in my car, and he smiled his southern smile. My reaction? Total prom queen wave with matching enormous, exaggerated smile. Secondly, one night coming home from the gym (work out gear, still sweating...) I ran into him while carrying a Sam's Club sized box of tampons. Both mortifying.

So now, it's almost Saturday night. It's 80-some degrees out. I should probably pull myself together, plug in the straightener, and venture out. But, knowing me, I will do all that work just to learn he's out of town.

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