Tenth Musee

I was just in Target picking up sandwich bags and a desktop fan. On my way out, I and about a half a dozen other people in the immediate area, spotted a tall, tan, leggy woman with stiletto sandals and the kind of ass you can set a drink on.  She was wearing her caramel colored hair swept up in a bun, as though she’d been at the beach and she was wearing nothing except a thin “wife-beater”-style tank that barely covered her Brazilian.  No, seriously.  Like asscheeks were visible.  She wore a tank top as a dress.

Now, I can so appreciate a beautiful woman. I thought, “Wow, she’s incredible!  She forgot her pants, but she’s got a spectacular ass.” And then, I caught the eye of the 80-year-old Barney Fife security guard checking her out, along with this 40-something guy in a muscle shirt and wrap-around shades.  You know, the kind of guy who does “finger guns” and thinks he’s a babe magnet, but still sports a fanny pack.

I smiled at them both, knowingly and went about my day, weaving through the hordes that find it necessary to invite every member of their family on a shopping trip to Target and then walk 5-across so you can’t pass with your cart. And let us not forget that one meandering kid who completely ignores that you’re trying to get by and you go hoarse saying, “Excuse me, sweetie.” until you realize no one speaks English and you’re forced to run the whole fam damily straight into Small Electrics. But I digress…

I park kind of far from the store, usually, to try to get a few extra steps in and so I was several rows over and several cars back loading up my trunk when the Babe Magnet walked up to my car.

“I just wanted to tell you that I think you’re gorgeous. That woman? She may have been hot, but her face?  It’s not gorgeous like yours. You are beautiful,” he said.

“Thanks. I appreciate that,” I said, closing my trunk.  Babe Magnet sidled up next to me and slipped an arm around my shoulders conspiratorially. 

“”That woman may have had a hot ass, but her face? Nothing like yours.  I’m not saying you don’t have a hot ass, but you’ve got a few more curves than most men like.  I’m just saying that even though I was checking her out and you may be a little curvier, you… you are gorgeous. What a face!”

This is the part where I wanted to clock him in the Adam’s apple, but instead I just said, “Thank you.”

He replied, “No, thank you!  You deserve it!”

I deserve to be hunted down in a parking lot and told by a douchebag that while I sure am pretty, I’m not quite as hot as Miss Brazil back there?  Well, no kidding.  I’m not a supermodel, I will never be a supermodel and guess what? I don’t want to be a supermodel.  I had absolutely no beef with that woman.  She was stunning!  Aside from the tack-factor of her outfit, I had absolutely no issue with her and definitely didn’t convey that.

Maybe the guy was just embarrassed he got caught ogling someone. Maybe he thought he’d offended me because he wasn’t drooling over me, like those women who fight against porn because no one wants to sleep with them.  Or maybe he’s just an idiot.  I suspect the latter.

While I appreciate his compliment, the mind reels that he actually thought I wanted… nay, needed to hear that.  Shove it up your fanny pack, dude.