I have to apologize for the recent hiatus in my blogging! I just got back from girl-cation which turned out to be an amazing time at the lake—boating, chatting, drinking, eating, tubing—it was awesome!
And exhausting. Which is why my roommate and I decided that last night would be a perfect movie night. We needed a little time to catch up on our relaxation, so we left work at a decent time, went home and immediately changed into our scrubby clothes. The plan was to get a movie and go to the grocery store to get something for dinner.
We’re wandering the movie store trying to decide what to find and eventually go with Stop-Loss and 27 Dresses. I approach the counter, and give this good looking movie store guy my account number, and we are chatting a little bit—he asks about our weekend, etc. We leave.
On the way to the car, S and I are about dying over the absolute cute-ness that movie store guy is. I am dying about the fact that movie store guy is totally cute and I am totally nasty in my scrubby clothes, hair up, sweaty look. I decide that she MUST call the movie store and get movie store guy’s number…
The DVD cases don’t have the freaking phone number on them—what kind of customer service is THAT? So, we call B.
“B—it’s an emergency…well, not really an actual emergency, but in my world, there is some serious shit happening. I really need the phone number to the movie store.”
“Because the guy behind the counter is totally a hottie and I want to date him. I’m making S call him back!”
“Let me look it up online…”
I give S the number, and it’s freaking BUSY! She tries and tries and tries. All the while, I am trying to convince myself that this is what single 23 year old gals are supposed to be doing. It’s not creepy at all, I think–totally normal…or totally screwed up, either way. Anyway, I tell S if she can’t get through I am driving her butt back there and she is going in to do this in person!
Surprisingly, she agrees.
We can’t get through on the line, so I head back in the other direction. I park at the business next door because I am too flipping embarrassed to park out front, and we get S pumped up to go back in! I, of course, ask her to tell him that if this is totally not normal, or he’s not okay with this, or if he’s married, to please not judge because I would really like to rent movies there again.
And, she goes in— although I basically have to scream at her and literally kick her out of the car and threaten to end our friendship–I mean, with only minor hesitation.
I’m about dying inside…
I call my sister…
All of the sudden, movie store guy, followed by S, are walking over to the furthest window, and he waves, and slaps a sheet of paper with his name and phone number on it to the window…
Really dying now.
I have to go in.
So, I do.
And we chat for a few more minutes.
We leave. I am still dying. Still in nasty clothes. But I have his number. And he has mine.
“He probably won’t call,” I think—even so, that was fun!
Fast forward: 10:47 last night—he’s leaving work…my phone rings…
He says, “I checked, and you don’t have any late fees…”
(To Be Continued…)