Good morning!
Gentleman. When one is at the DMV, please… PLEASE… refrain from hitting on a woman. 
Or, just don’t hit on me at the DMV. Now, don’t get me wrong, we are so grateful for those compliments and clever ways to slide a card on over that can dubiously go either way; however, when Mr. Button Up Flannel decided to not only interrupt a conversation with some newly made friends I had made while waiting for my number to be called; he had the nerve to turn around and point at me (very creepily) and ask (very loudly) “Are you single?”
Uh, hello, all eyes on me.
First of all, wow. WHO does this.
2nd. Now the whole DMV is about to know my relationship status.
As I look around, I wave up my hand, yes, here… party of one.
Thanks, flannel shirt guy.
And no, that was not the end of it.
The group I had made friends with were also so astonished and straight up started laughing under neath their breaths. I would have to if the shoe was on the other foot; but clearly, that was NOT the case this day.
So flannel guy hits me again with, “I was overhearing your conversations and I believe you and I have so much in common.”
OMG.
“We should exchange numbers.” OMG. This is not happening.
Um, oh, well… that’s nice but I’m really in no position to date right now. I just ended an engagement and well, I’m focused on me right now; but thank you.
“Oh, that’s okay! I newly single too! Here give me your number and we can go out.” As he shoves his phone in my personal space.
Oh, Holy God.
As I glance over to my new gaggle of a-hole friends… whom are literally, rolling on the floor laughing over this… I give them my f***ing -SAVE ME- face.
To no avail.
Paybacks chumps. Paybacks.
So, reluctantly, I take the bounty towel guy’s phone and put in my number…. OH my God, Why. I knew I had to put in my real number because I was, at least, another hour away from my damn number being called from up above. FML. *slaps forehead
So, naturally he text me IMMEDIATELY…. because THAT, was the appropriate (non-
stalker like) thing to do with, “Hi, nice to meet you, I’m so & so. I think we are perfect for each other. I can’t wait to go out with you for dinner. I have a house.”
Sigh. *picks at fingernails
Yes, this is what’s out there, ladies.
So, my clique and I are now back in conversation and I keep hearing my phone quack at me. Oh no. Who the heck keeps blowing me up. It wasn’t. Oh… it was.
The untucked pendleton – again.
“Very interesting…Texas.”
What?! Who the hell is this guy talking to… Ugh. Me. And he wasn’t jovially involving
himself in the conversations he initially put himself, he isn’t making jokes with us, he wasn’t participating very well in the conversation about meat… This guy is starting to annoy everyone now. In fact, when he would speak up, he’d put a damper on every topic with some sad and depressing news story. Clearly… NOT a perfect match for me. But, I’m sure made the DMV happy to hear our laughter now lagging at a dull roar.
Sidebar: You don’t even have to know me personally to know I’m pretty down to earth, make jokes about EVERYTHING and love to laugh. Love and light peoples, love and light!
Now back to our regularly scheduled programming…
Since I won’t go into all the disastrous details of his ever-failing, creepy efforts to talk so seriously to me while the rest of us, happily await our numbers to be notified when his number is finally called he goes out of his way to try and hug me – unsuccessfully – and says have a good day and I will talk with you soon. While grinning and winking at me.
He doesn’t say a word to the rest of mi nueva familia and charges off. My new buddies, taken back, retort, “hey, did he just snub us on the goodbyes?”
Ha. He did.
So, as we near the end of my fascinating day at the DMV, I’m wrapping up my business there and my phone quacks at me again. Twice.
“Are you still there?”
“At the DMV?”
The moral of the story is to just relax and enjoy the ride. While I probably had WAY TOO good a time at the DMV – goonies and all – guys, you don’t need to try so freaking hard. Just be yourself….
Because well, it’s fairly likely that your “representative” isn’t quite projecting the message you think it’s putting out there.
And don’t disrobe before you take your driver’s test either.
It’s frowned upon.
Just saying.
