It’s funny, I don’t know when this blog became a catalogue of my failures and shortcomings, but there you have it. I always promised to be honest with what happens to me, and so that shall continue.
Yesterday a customer came in to look some products over and get to know what we sell and how best to use it. They were either starting a company or expanding into using our products. They were from out of town and came in to town to do a bunch of running around; we were but one stop among many.
The interesting thing is that this particular customer was a woman, a pretty woman at that. In the past I have been around and served (in a professional capacity) pretty women, so it is not like I get tongue-tied, blush or start drooling.
Sure she was pretty but not excessively so. I think the real trouble was I started to look at her like a character. I started to inventory her and surmise what type of person she was, what type of character she would be.
The first thing about her which struck me was strawberries. Not literally but the smell of strawberries hit me and emanated from her like a shield which protected her from bad smells.
Her hair was long, falling straight and true down past the middle of her back, easily deviated by bumps and contours of her jacket. It was a mixture of: blonde, auburn and darker streaks all competing for attention in a friendly way.
Her eyes were large and green, I think. Her eyelashes demanded more attention than her large eyes. Her eyelashes were huge, seemingly shredded butterfly wings attached to her eyelids. I was sure that every time she blinked, they stirred the wind.
Her face, as you might have guessed appeared unblemished with her makeup expertly applied. Her face, like her appearance, was well crafted and very pretty, seemingly the smooth perfection of skin and contour. I surmised that under all that makeup lay a face not needing it.
Her entire torso was a mystery, due to two things. One was her large and puffy scarf which wrapped around her neck a few times with no beginning or end. The second was the puffy suede leather jacket which ballooned out from her body, but not in a restrictive way.
Her bottom half was a contrast to her upper half, in that its contours were no mystery, yet were. Such is the delightful contradiction that is yoga pants. It was clear that she was not as large a woman as her jacket hinted. One could deduce that she was as shapely and slender in the classic feminine form that her face had previously hinted.
Her boots, like her jacket, were made of the same, or similar, suede leather and rose up to mid-calf. They were capped off in what seemed to me to be awkward to walk in stiletto heels. Somehow she managed to walk about gracefully whilst walking on sticks.
I busied myself with my work duties as my boss tended to her, explaining what was what and how it was used. This is a routine I have seen and done many times before, nothing new.
As she was leaving, after agreeing to come back to pick up some items, I asked for her business card. This is something I have done with many a customer, man or woman and the reason is strictly professional.
If I have a properly formatted business card I can then enter all of your company’s information into our accounting system. That way your address and contact information is on file for us to invoice you, even ship items out or just email you the copy of that invoice you lost.
What happened next was unexpected and a bit embarrassing; as well it threw me back to high school. Just after asking her for her business card, she, without missing a beat, “Just want my phone number, eh Geoff?” She finished this off with a wink after speaking in a knowing, yet cheeky manner.
I can (as you already have) assumed that she noticed me looking her over and assumed I was attracted to her, and therefore hitting on her. I will admit that I was attracted to her, she was pretty, but I was not flirting with her.
As I was in the professional capacity of serving a customer I take responsibility for my behaviour and if I had, in any way acted unprofessionally or made her uncomfortable. I know better than to hit on a customer, but not enough to not look them over so it seems (my bad).
I am not in a place to start a relationship with anyone, let alone with someone from out of town who likes nice things. (I just can’t afford to try to keep up). This is a disastrous match and a road that I don’t plan on going down anytime soon. I don’t need to run up my credit cards trying to catch or keep the attentions of a lady. (Yes I know this is all based on my impressions of her and could be entirely inaccurate).
Her comment may have been intended as a way to shut down yet another drooling potential suitor or even as a flirt to me. It struck me as the former and in that instant I was thrust back to the awkward days of high school.
The feelings of the countless cruel and dismissive rejections I have received over the years revisited me. If I had a nickel for every confused and mildly horrified expression that adorned a woman’s face just after I asked her out, I would be a rich man.
This experience, to me, shows that I have more work to do on me. I am not ready to date anyone. I just don’t know how I would explain my current lifestyle to anyone. Let alone ask them to accept it, or heaven forbid, join it.
I know that I need to be in a place where I would not be embarrassed to take a woman back to. Don’t get me wrong I like Wanda, it just that this lifestyle does not show stability or the “provider” thing.
I also know that the biggest problem is my lack of confidence and how I see myself in my current situation. I need to be less embarrassed about how and where I am living, I know that. Perhaps beyond August when I am saving money and can afford to take a woman out I will try, who knows.
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