"But what if I SUPPORT sex-trafficking?" the middle-aged man in front of me asked while his buddies broke into laughter just behind him. I took a deep breath, fighting the urge to roll my eyes or hit him over the head with my clipboard.
"Well, this petition is just for people who think it's morally reprehensible to sell women and children into the sex trade against their will," I answered professionally with a beaming smile, "Obviously, we don't want to force YOU to do anything that you're uncomfortable with, though."
"I mean, I'll still sign it... it was just a joke," he mumbled uncomfortably, snatching the pen out of my hand and starting to scribble his name down on the next open line.
I glanced behind him to where his friends were now awkwardly shuffling their feet, "Would you gentleman like to sign as well?"
They fell into single-file line, each signing their name and smiling sheepishly up at me as they offered the pen back. A few minutes later, they were headed down the mall hallway and I turned my attention to the next group of people approaching.
Calling out my normal introduction, I felt my cheeks start to heat a little when I realized how attractive the main guy in the group was. Tall, dark and way too handsome to not be trouble, I tried to remind myself.
Annoyingly aware of how cute he was, I focused my attention on rattling off my speech to the girl he was with who looked too young to be his girlfriend and just enough like him to pass for a sister. She signed quickly and move to the side. He stepped forward with a smile and a "hi"... which is when I got my first real look at him.
As much as I really hate to admit it, my heart fluttered just a bit when he handed me back the pen and gave me another smile. With tan cheeks, deep brown eyes and super white teeth, he was actually gorgeous. I watched him walk about halfway down the hall, still blushing. Shaking myself and cursing rogue hormones, I went back into my store to help stock.
20 minutes later:
"I think you're missing the point of the story, Brittany. The point is that I should not be allowed to date," I finished, "Dating is my kryptonite and one of these days, it's actually going to kill me."
"You just have to meet the right person. I swear, I know it seems bad now but eventually, you're going to meet someone GREAT and fall in love," My boss Brittany smiled, "And when you do, I will be there to say 'I told you so' and to plan the wedding."
I had just concluded the epic re-telling of one of my love life fiascos while we finished stocking the store and my boss Brittany, in true bestie fashion, was playing the eternal optimist.
And in true Kayt fashion, I started making fake vomit sounds.
We were both laughing when I heard someone walk into the store. Brittany straightened, "Hi, is there anything that we can help you find today?"
I turned to see Mr. Gorgeous just two feet from me, rocking a little on his heels. Shooting Brittany a rockstar smile, he answered her, "Actually, I was wondering if I could get her number and I could take her out on a date sometime."
There was total silence for a few seconds.
"Would that be okay?" Mr. Gorgeous asked, eyes now focused on my face, which was probably turning three shades of ripened tomato.
I nodded as Brittany who had been studying him appreciatively suddenly asked, "Do we know him?"
"No," I admitted, smiling a little towards her, while scribbling my number down on receipt paper, "But apparently, I'm about to."
Officially deciding, I was interested in the handsome stranger who'd just wandered into our work day, she whirled around and announced, "Well, what is your name?"
He answered with a grin and I handed him the paper just as Brittany announced, "Well, I'm Brittany and THIS is Kaytlyn. She's pretty amazing..."
"She's gorgeous," He commented with yet another swoon-worthy smile, "I have to go, but I'll call you later. Nice to meet you, Brittany. And Kaytlyn."
Needless to say, this was the exact reaction as soon as we were semi-sure that he was out of hearing range:
After some Facebook stalking and a few texts back and forth, Britt and I had ironed out the details. He was a few years older than me, had already graduated from school, had a good job, had his own car and house-and wanted to take me out the next day.
I drove home, singing along to stupid Katy Perry songs, and laid out my date outfit like a little kid getting ready for their first day of school. Cuddled up in bed, I sent Mr. Gorgeous one last text telling him I was falling asleep and that I'd see him the next day.
7 hours later:
BUZZ.
BUZZ.
BUZZ.
Groaning, I rolled over, trying to find my phone underneath the ten thousand pounds of covers on my bed. Finally locating it, I flipped it open to see three text messages from Mr. Gorgeous.
He may be pretty, I thought, but he clearly has no idea of the appropriate time to text me... 7 oclock in the damn morning, it's a SUNDAY....
My eyes adjusting to the light, I read:
Morning, beautiful. I just wanted to tell you that I'm really looking forward to our date today and I still really want to go... I just have to be honest with you. I'm married.
This is how I saw those last two words in my head.
I'm married married married MARRIED.
I texted him: Married like 'getting a divorce and have been separated for awhile' or actually married?
Him: Married. But the thing is.. there's just something there between us.
Me: Yes, there is something between us. Your wife. Sorry, I'm not that kinda girl.
Him: Don't be like that. I just want to get to know each other.
Me: I'm not being like anything.. I just am not going to go on a date with a married man.
Eleven text messages and three missed calls later:
"He's STILL texting me," I told Nae, biting down on a french fry with a little bit too much force, "And calling..."
I glanced down at where my phone now showed a missed voicemail, "AND apparently leaving me whiny voicemails."
"Ohmygod, put it on speaker," she hissed, scooting into the booth and leaning down while I dialed in to access my mail box. Three seconds later, his voice came out in a tragic tone,
"Hey... Kaytlyn.... it's me. I just... well, shit. I just want you to give me a chance. I know that me being married makes things complicated, but I swear, I don't do this. I just really want to see you. I've been thinking about you and I just want you to... we could go for a ride on my motorcycle. Even if it's not a date, I just want you to get to know the REAL me. Not the married me. Not that the married me isn't the real me... I just... call me back. Please."
Sharnae to me, "What. The. Fuck."
Stay Tuned for Part 2 :) or more appropriately titled, "I was being a sarcastic bitch, I didn't ACTUALLY mean for you to call me when you got a divorce"
cheers, my loves!
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