Originally Posted: 2005-10-22 2:20am
To the mother of the girl I so obviously checked outâSorry
Me: 25 year-old guy with glasses and a Swiss Army bag
You: Mother of three with at least one hot, easily distracted daughter, 18-22
It was a few minutes after five on Friday, and I was on my way to CPK to pick up my dinner. Your daughter and I were in an area triangulated by Hot Topic, the cell phone kiosk where the annoying guys in ties always try to sell you the plan/phone you already have, and the self-massage/thermal pillow joint. I recall seeing one of those head-scratcher things with the tops that look strangely like the tips of condoms just beyond the face of your daughter, who I saw in passing.
I just have to say, mom, that she was hot.
She was wearing a denim jacket and had a slightly irregular nose. Not in a bad way, but a kind of slight hook or bump that gives the whole package some character. Maybe she got it from your side. These are the only physical details I can clearly remember. She was on her cell phone, probably talking to some boyfreind that you don't approve of (and rightly so, we all know what he's after with a girl who looks like her).
What I do know for sure is that she was a hottie. This I know because I did something I never, never (well, very rarely) do in these cases. I turned my head for a second look. Seriously, I never do this. I don't know how girls feel about getting checked out. I do know how I feel when those fat slobs at the pizza place eye-hump every female between 13 and 45 that passes through thier lazy-eyed visual field. I just find the whole thing creepy. I think a polite glance at an attractive girl is warranted, and indeed one of the main fringe benefits to working in retail. But the lingering gaze, the head-follow, or the full-on course-change-and-following maneuvers I cannot usually condone. The only reason I chanced it this time was that she was on her phone and I was sure she wouldn't notice me, and I doubt she did.
But you did, mom. You caught me checking out your baby.
When I twisted my head back from that second satisfying glance at the fruit of your loom, I saw you calling to her, trying to call attention to the fact that she had continued to walk while you and your two younger daughters (I promise, my eyes did not roam) had stopped to examine something. I was horrified when the very girl I had just taken that delicious second glance at turned and gave you an exasperated look probably meant more for the caller on her phone (again, are we sure he's right for her?), turned around and headed your way.
My pace quickened and my eyes dropped to the flagstone floor. I passed by you afraid to look into the death-gaze I am sure was pointed in my direction. I deserved it.
I just wanted to take this public opportunity to say that I am sorry that I had impure thoughts regarding your daughter. It had been a while since I had a girlfriend, and sometimes such impulses get the better of me. I won't even try to pawn this off on you for having such attractive offspring in the first place, or parading her out in public for any guy with decent eyesight to feast upon. This was all my doing, and completely my bad. mea culpa.
Still, if things don't work out between her and the goon, maybe you could have her shoot me an e-mail.
post id: 105839820
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