Girls are always complaining about guys hitting on them. From “I wish he would stop staring at my boobs” to “god, he thought buying me a drink meant he could make out with me,” I’ve heard and read the gamut. And a bit of me is always a little bit jealous. Guys don’t hit on me, or if they do, I’m just too dense to realize it.
But earlier this week, I got blatantly hit on in the most bizarre of circumstances.
I’m taking a travel writing class this semester, and for one of my assignments I had to write a story about celebrities living in Miami. So I reserved a ZipCar and drove over to Miami Beach to pay a visit to the infamous Versace house. I parked in a public lot, making a quick mental note of where it was, and walked the few blocks to where I had to go. But when I was done doing interviews for my story, I could not, for the life of me, find that parking lot.
Yes, I didn’t just lose my car in a lot. I lost the whole damn parking lot. Believe me, not one of my finer moments. Probably my least fine moment ever, actually.
So there I was, somewhere I’d never been before, completely lost, doing loop after loop within a four block radius, trying to find the parking lot. It was early afternoon, which means it was about 90 degrees. Needless to say, I was frazzled, panicked, sweaty and gross. Attractive, huh?
As I was walking past a tour information place, a guy about my age pulled up next to me on his bike. “Would you like information on a walking tour?” he asked, offering me a pamphlet.
“Uh, no thanks,” I said, trying to be polite and trying not to have a nervous breakdown at the same time.
I kept walking. He kept pedaling and followed me. “Are you on vacation?”
“No, I’m a student at UM. Just never been over here before. Kind of lost the lot I parked in.”
I think this is me clearly articulating that I’m definitely NOT going to be paying for a tour, right? I mean, I said no, I told him I go to school right there… Basically, not in the market for taking a tour. At all.
But he kept talking to me, and asking questions about me. What am I doing out here, what am I studying, etc. Clearly exhibiting interest. Keep in mind, at that point I’m a hot mess in every sense of the word, yet this guy is being obvious enough that even I can realize he’s not just trying to sell me a tour. So I don’t get hit on when I’m confident and looking good, but when I’ve just made one of the stupidest moves in my life and am dripping in sweat, I’m fair game? I mean, okay I guess…
He was pretty cute, too. Bummer I had to shake him off to go call ZipCar to see if they could help me. (They couldn’t. I ended up calling my mom, who Google mapped the area and found me the right lot. Bottom line: mom can always help. And dear god, write down where you park.)
Have you ever gotten hit on under really weird circumstances, Lovelies?