The Sexy Man in the Elevator
Have you ever had one of those days where you just feel so gross and awful that you can barely function? I had one of those days this week. I felt and looked like death and had no intention of interacting with anyone that night. I hadn’t been able to sleep well in days, I had sweated off all my makeup earlier in the day and was too tired to reapply, and my allergies were killing me and making my eyes a bloodshot drippy mess. To top it all off, I had spent most of the day taking headshots of one of my best friends, who is a model, which had only served to remind me that I was not (and never would be) hot enough to be a model. So I felt hideously gross, super depressed, and physically sick. I was a wreck. I never would have left my apartment, except that I ran out of food and I wasn’t sure when I’d have another chance to go to the grocery store. So I mustered up what little energy I had left and made the trek to gather sustenance.
My goal was to get in and out as quickly as possible without talking to anyone, and I almost succeeded. Almost. I pushed my cart into the elevator, but was in such a daze that I took it up instead of down to the parking garage. My food and I rode up to the balcony of the shopping plaza as I cursed my stupidity. Then the doors opened, and in walked this cute guy. He paused to let me out and I awkwardly explained that I wasn’t getting out.
Now, everyone knows that the normal protocol for riding elevators is to ignore everyone else and stare at the wall or phone, as if deep in thought. I guess this guy doesn’t ride many elevators though, because he kept talking to me. He was very friendly and had a nice smile, which he couldn’t seem to turn off. About halfway down, I finally realized that he was hitting on me!
You have to understand that I rarely get hit on outside of Home Depot and Walmart parking lots. On the rare occasions that guys do take notice of me, it’s usually with that creepy “heyyy” kind of flirting. But this guy was different; he was nice, and he treated me like a human. I was in shock, this doesn’t even happen on days I look relatively good. This guy was special. When we got to my floor, he said, “You know, you’re pretty cute.” He must have some serious vision problems, but I was genuinely touched.
Unfortunately, this story has a very sad and anti-climactic ending, thanks to my sleep-deprived, allergy-ridden brain’s inability to function that night. I never ever give my number out to strange men because I’m always terrified that they could be serial killers, even seemingly nice ones. So when the guy asked if I had a boyfriend, I stupidly replied, “kind of.” What does that mean??? Funny you should ask me that, because he did too. I didn’t know the answer. The conversation came to an awkward end as I pushed my little cart out of the elevator and mentally kicked myself for not being a more eloquent liar.
I realized very quickly that he probably thought I was rejecting him because I didn’t think he was attractive or thought he was creepy or something. I felt horrible! I desperately wished that I could go back in time and explain that my brain wasn’t working very well, and that I thought he was cute too, and that I so appreciated his kind words, and that he made my crappy night a whole lot better.
So if by some far off chance you are reading this, sweet-guy-I-probably-should-have-married, thank you for making my night. I’m sorry for accidentally rejecting you. Here’s to hoping we meet in another elevator someday!