Flirting?

Isn't the arbor looking great! Now it has a seat in it! Okay, enough about the arbor. Anyone who wants to see the finished product has to come visit in person. We'll have a glass wine ready for you so come on over :)


Now to the real blog post:

Who says MARTA buses and trains are the only places where men will hit on you without shame? I don't even have to swipe my federally subsidized public transportation card to be on the receiving end of some major sweet talkin'. Just this past Thursday I was walking home from a really good therapy session and had made it about half way home when I heard whistles coming from a passing vehicle. Perhaps it was the confident smile on my face; perhaps it was that I had my hair down; or perhaps it was that the passing vehicle was being driven by one of my favorite gay-boy co-workers (yes, there are several, so I have to specify that it was one of my "favorites"). Okay, that didn't really count as being "sweet talked".

But it didn't end there. As I rounded the corner onto my street, I was motioned to by a man who was glistening with sweat, squinting his bloodshot eyes and smiling like he'd just smoked a Cheech and Chong sized "cigarette". I removed my iPod ear buds so that he could ask me "how come you're so much better looking than me?" I really didn't know what to say, mainly because I was overwhelmed by the aroma of booze that was clinging to him like Pig Pen's dust cloud. I'm going to guess the bouquet contained a hint of Wild Irish Rose, but could very well have included a lovely Pinot Noir from the West Coast. My taste buds do better than my nose, so I couldn't have been certain without tasting his poison. I doubt he would have been keen on sharing.

Then he asked if he could guess how old I was and I figured there was no harm. He was sober enough to know to guess low and when I revealed my true age, he looked obligatorily shocked. Then he asked me to guess his age. I too guessed low and said "not a day over 49". He pulled back his shoulders and proudly confirmed that he was 66. Then he asked if I knew what his secret to longevity was. I said, "well, I bet it includes alcohol?" He confirmed that "drink" was indeed on his list and that women were too. I told him he was crazy, in a humorous way of course, and he took it as such. He said his sister Elaine is always telling him he's crazy. I decided,obviously not soon enough, that he could probably keep talking all night so I finally told him I needed to be moving along.

So then I get to our house and as I'm walking up the front steps, our flirty neighbor shouts out to me that it looks like I've gotten a tan. I replied that in the summer I tend to get that way. And then he said that with the tan and my hair down, I looked Polynesian. Again, I was at a loss for words so I just smiled and went into the house. I don't know if he was flirting or if he was just making an observation like the time he told me I had a lot of moles. I was extremely flattered by the mole comment as you might imagine.

Just another day in the hood...