I was hit on today. Which is, in and of itself, odd. I work from home and very rarely go out into a hittable ballpark. Add on top of that, that since age 14, whenever I’m in public I wear a scowl that screams, “Back off or I will eat your face.”
It’s unintentional, but seems I’m not very approachable.
But the notable part of this hit was the sheer absurdity of it.
“So, you look like a woman that might not know if there are deer in these parts.”
“Uhhh, what?” (I’m not very articulate around new people, and c’mon, that’s a ridiculous opening line!)
“I’m a bowhunter. I’m always on the prowl for two things – a good girl and a good deer.”
“Oh. Well, I turned a deer into a hood ornament last year. So I guess there are a lot.” (I also offer up random, stupidly phrased facts around new people.)
“You got one of those in that cage?” He nodded at the pink metal frame I was
standing next to.
(I should probably have prefaced this somewhere with a couple of salient facts:
1. This was at a county fair.
2. I was waiting for my four-your-old to hop through the bounce cage while I held his cotton candy and his game winnings.)
I looked at the pink cage and nodded, then kept my gaze locked there. I hate chit-chat. Maybe if I don’t look at him he’ll go away.
“Yes. Waiting for my son.”
“You live around here?”
“We don’t. That’s my daughter in there. I had my mother dive us up. It’s a nice quiet town. And like I said, looking for good girls and good deer.”
There really isn’t anything intrinsically wrong with that statement. I’ve been carless. I’ve had to camp at my parent’s house after achieving adulthood. But I didn’t tell anyone about it. At least not in the first three minutes! And STOP with the ‘good girl/good deer’ thing. It’s just…no.
“Do you have a husband?”
Thank you, Jesus.
“I do. As a matter of fact, we should be going. He’ll be home soon.”
I whistled to the boy.
“Ah. One of those. Not every guy will keep you under his thumb. That’s a great whistle.”
“What?” WHY did I say that out loud?
And did he just compliment my whistle?
“I’m a gentle guy. I don’t like it when men try to keep their ladies under their thumb, you got to be back before he comes in.”
“Oh, no. He’s working, that’s all.”
“Oh, those ones are just as bad. And that whistle would be great in the woods. Nice and clear, not too long.”
Kiddo finally comes to the top of the steps. When I tell him it’s time to leave the fair, the eyebrows comes down in the scowl that can mean trouble, so I lean in and whisper.
“What’s our rule, buddy? If you are good when it is time to leave someplace fun, we’ll do something else that’s fun, soon. There are more fairs this summer.”
Little Q sat down to get his shoes on straight.
“Want me to walk you to your car?”
AH! He was right behind me. Stupid midway noise and bowhunter stalking abilities.
“No, thanks. We’re good.” Disengage! Disengage!
“You sure? It’s getting dark. Lost of weirdos around”
Yeah, got that.
“Nah, I always park behind my cousin’s setup.” I pointed to the guy on the edge of the Midway using a chainsaw to sculpt a bear out of a large stump. “No one in their right mind would go up against that.”
That was a compulsive lie, but bowhunter stepped back, and we were on our way after a quick nod.
And on our way by the chainsaw artist, I paused and waved, then mimed ‘call me,’ which likely puzzled the giant man with the chainsaw, but I through it best to keep up the pretense as we walked to the car.
And I realized I just became the weirdo.
“I don’t know, Dude. Just some spooky looking chick with a dirty kid. She acted like I should know her, did the ‘call me’ thing, but I don’t know who in Hell she was.”