I’m not quite sure, but I think I was hit on by a 40-something balding redhead this morning– who happened to be wearing dirty, old white tennis shoes and black pants. Never do that, if you can help it. Ha ha.

I was sitting on one of the benches at the Ash Way Park and Ride, minding my own business. He comes up to me and says something like, “You don’t look too thrilled this morning.” I’d probably had a blank expression on my face. I said, “Oh, you know, I’m just waiting for the bus.” He didn’t hear me clearly, and asked “What’s that sweetheart?” I’m thinking, “Sweetheart? I’m not your sweetheart.” He asked me which bus I was waiting for, and I told him. He was waiting for the same one. Great.

He made a comment about my shirt. I’m wearing my “Nobody’s Perfect” hoodie with the two normal looking owls and one upside-down, crazy-colored owl. He said, “I like your shirt. I bet you’re perfect, though.” I told him, “No, that’s why I bought the shirt.” I pointed to the crazy owl and said, “See that’s me right there.” He then replied with, “If it’s any consolation, I think you’re perfectly gorgeous.” I never know how to respond to these compliments. I laughed, thanked him for the compliment, and hoped to God that he wouldn’t say anything else. He didn’t.

It got me thinking, though. I don’t think a guy has ever called me sweetheart before. I think I’d like it, but I wish I didn’t hear it from the balding redhead first. lol. That ruins the appeal a bit.

I don’t think a guy has called me gorgeous, either. (I’m not going to count random messages from guys on Myspace.) I have been told I was pretty, cute, beautiful, and even ravishing, but never gorgeous. It’s extremely flattering when it happens– to receive compliments like that. I guess it’s because I just don’t see myself as beautiful. Cute, maybe, but not beautiful. Kelsey is the one that’s beautiful.