Freak Bitches Don't Like Boys Who Wink
His name is Paul; a few of the girls in the office know him from high school. I’m not going to pretend that he is unattractive, he is cute ~ dark hair and brown eyes, a nice face and his complexion is always colored a suntanned gold. Only there’s this air around him, and you know that he knows that he is a nice looking young man. You know, just being near him, he believes that he could have anyone he chose. The two I work with are prime examples of why he believes that ~ giggles and blush and peppy-dumb-blonde answers whenever he come by the office. I smile a small hi-how-are-you smile and I look away. I focus on whatever is at hand and try to attempt to suppress the gag reflex as he hits shamelessly on both of them.
Today they were not in and, forced to man the desk, a simple smile would not cover it.
P: Hey there! (Toothy smile and cheesy wink.)
Me: Hi, you can go ahead back, no one is back there. (Smile, eye contact and quiet dismissal.) (Nothing rude.)
P: Not to busy, you could probably get away for lunch, huh? (Stupid smile, never fading.)
Me: We’re busy, just not crazy.
P: Lunch?
Me: I brought it.
P: You could get away though, if you wanted or someone wanted you to? (The wink again, it’s as if his right eye operates on its own.)
Me: I wouldn’t want to. Thanks. (I get up and, still smiling as bile reaches the back of my throat.)
I begin to walk away, as politely as possible and as I reach the door it happens ~ that young man lets his inner insecure, jock, high school boy out.
P: Thanks, for what? Damn girl that aint no invitation. Lunch with a freak bitch, purple hair…
and it trails behind him as he walks away. At first rage fills my chest and makes it hard to breathe. Rage that every time I see him I with hold mean laughs and ugly comments, go beyond that to be polite, POLITE, and he is still so childish. Then rage washed away with laughter and a happy smile that stayed almost all day ~ freak bitch, purple hair. It’s been so long, such a long, long time since someone has tried to use that to hurt me. In that time I have grown comfortable with me, who I am, what I like. Since that time I met her and she liked me in the beginning because I had that “freaky-ish” style and I was different from all the girls around me. Freak bitch with purple hair and baggy pants and dark eyes and glitter…Freak bitch, why thank you Paul. Thank you very much I might almost go to lunch next time. Oh, dang, I forgot that freak bitches don't like boys who wink.
Today they were not in and, forced to man the desk, a simple smile would not cover it.
P: Hey there! (Toothy smile and cheesy wink.)
Me: Hi, you can go ahead back, no one is back there. (Smile, eye contact and quiet dismissal.) (Nothing rude.)
P: Not to busy, you could probably get away for lunch, huh? (Stupid smile, never fading.)
Me: We’re busy, just not crazy.
P: Lunch?
Me: I brought it.
P: You could get away though, if you wanted or someone wanted you to? (The wink again, it’s as if his right eye operates on its own.)
Me: I wouldn’t want to. Thanks. (I get up and, still smiling as bile reaches the back of my throat.)
I begin to walk away, as politely as possible and as I reach the door it happens ~ that young man lets his inner insecure, jock, high school boy out.
P: Thanks, for what? Damn girl that aint no invitation. Lunch with a freak bitch, purple hair…
and it trails behind him as he walks away. At first rage fills my chest and makes it hard to breathe. Rage that every time I see him I with hold mean laughs and ugly comments, go beyond that to be polite, POLITE, and he is still so childish. Then rage washed away with laughter and a happy smile that stayed almost all day ~ freak bitch, purple hair. It’s been so long, such a long, long time since someone has tried to use that to hurt me. In that time I have grown comfortable with me, who I am, what I like. Since that time I met her and she liked me in the beginning because I had that “freaky-ish” style and I was different from all the girls around me. Freak bitch with purple hair and baggy pants and dark eyes and glitter…Freak bitch, why thank you Paul. Thank you very much I might almost go to lunch next time. Oh, dang, I forgot that freak bitches don't like boys who wink.
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