So this morning I woke up, knowing I was going to take the kid and meet my friend for coffee at Starbucks. I decided it’d probably be best to take a shower, but never even considered putting on makeup. That’s me. The makeup only comes out for conferences or maybe any given day I decide to ‘make an effort’. Hmm. Let’s just say it’s not that often.
Anyway, we’re sitting at Starbucks, my kid’s acing like a little monkey on steroids, but over all it’s enjoyable. And, blissful sigh, I have my coffee. Well, I’m chatting away with my friend, when I look up and that little alarm in my head goes off. That Woot, Woot, Firemen in the building alarm. I drop my gaze, spin my chair away and give them my back. Because I will not be caught drooling and looking like arse in front of them. Again.
So we’re still chatting away when I see movement out of the corner of my eyes. Then a nice hand, a fireman hand, slides past me and my coffee. “Here’s a firefighter tattoo for you,” he tells the kid. “Maybe your mom can help you put it on later.” And just like that, I’m forced to interact with the fireman. Oh, but wait, not fireman, firemen. Because all his friend sidle over to join in the discussion. And my daughter, already a flirt, happily replies, “I have Hello Kitty tattoos at home.” And my friend, all cute and girly, chats along as well. I, being the forgot-how-to-interact -with-men chick I’ve become, avoid all eye contact and attempt to make witty responses. Key word, attempt.
I’ve blogged about this before. I always run into the fireman or sexy guys on the days I look like arse. ALWAYS. And just because it drives me so nuts, I’ll purposely show up the next morning at the same time made up to the hilt only to find the Scrabble group and such. I honestly believe its the law of nature that I not be allowed to look good in front of one. Sigh. But it’s also inspired me to break down and use a fireman as the hero in one of my books.
