Let me set the scene for you:
The Time: 1pm
The Place: The West Side (STL) near Skinker, en route to the dentist
It’s an overcast day, the kind where you relish in the brief moments of sweet sunshine you’re intermittently gifted and I’ve got the sunroof back, but the windows up, because, you know, I like temperature control and if a bee was to fly in, I’d kill us all. At any rate, Grandma’s riding shot gun and we’re arguing about something non-relevant to life, (e.g the Kardashians, North West’s middle name, who shot J.R.,) when we come to a stop at a traffic light. While we’re in the midst of our typical back and forth, a dude rolls up on a motorcycle in the lane next to us. Mid-sentence I notice that he’s motioning for me to roll the window down, obviously wanting to ‘holla.’
I roll my eyes and politely wave my hand as if to say, “I’m good boo, married, got kids #nshit…” but he was persistent, so I roll the window down and before I could go into that spiel, he yells out over the idling engine-
Dude: Wanna go for a ride?
Me: *smiling* No, no. Thank you, tho. *notices that he’s a gentleman of a certain age*
Dude: Not you, I’m talking to you! *points to Grandma*
Grandma: *waving her hand in her face, no eye contact, but genuinely blushing* I’m good, thank you.
Dude shrugs and pulls off as the light turns green. Meanwhile, Grandma is giggling like a school girl. “I thought he was looking at you! I was afraid to smile too big at him because he’d see that I don’t have my teeth in!”. #Done
Goes to show you that we never get too old to appreciate a little flattery. 🙂
