Weekend Update.

Did you ever notice that how creepy someone is, is inversely proportional to how attractive they are? I'm not sure if that statement made any sense, as the word inversely tends to throw me for a loop. But, what I mean is: if you are attractive, any blatant advances that you make at me (and probably most humans) will be accepted, welcomed and enjoyed. I won't think that you're creepy--I'll be flattered and more importantly, excited! However, if you are unattractive, well--you better stay the hell away, creep. I know, could I be any more shallow?

For example, last weekend I was out at a bar, trying to catch the bartender's attention, to get myself a drink, when suddenly I felt a cool breeze through my hair, and on the back of my neck. I looked behind me, and noticed an older gentleman. He was balding and approximately 275 pounds, with a wicked grin spread across his face. I was not welcoming, tolerant, or enjoying the gust of air that he had just bestowed upon me. It was werid, and creepy. Now, had a really cute guy done that same gesture, I probably would have liked it a whole lot more. (Although, to be perfectly honest, I'm not quite sure that I want anyone breathing on the back of my neck in a crowded room).

Another example of this happened to me last night. Just as I was leaving the bar that I was at, a very cute guy approached me, and told me that he thought I was pretty. Wow! Again, had a gross/unattractive male stranger said those same words to me, I would have smiled, thanked him for the compliment, warned my friends about him, and then ran far away. However, because this guy was cute, I tolerated, welcomed and flat out--enjoyed his compliment. Of course, when he said it, I blushed uncontrollably. (An aside: why must we blush when we receive a compliment?)

As we got to chatting, (Let's call him Robby) Robby asked me how old I was. I told him that I was 26. (I know, I still have two more weeks, until my birthday but I was just testing it out). Robby backed away slightly and his whole face fell. "Oh," he said. "I'm only 22--you're really old."

I'm not quite sure when this happened. I am by no means, "old." I am well aware of that. In the scheme of life, I am extremely young. I am in my 20's for god's sake! However, when did I become NOT the youngest person at the bar anymore? My friend Annie, recently said that I have a very young soul. I think we all know that. I have the soul of a mature fourteen year old girl. I can't walk into a nail salon, without all of the nail ladies asking me if I want the special discount-- high school special manicure. Most people upon meeting me, actually guess that I'm a high school student--and very occasionally, I'll get a 19 or a 20 thrown my way. This is all well and fine with me, (as if my youthfulness keeps up with me, I think I'll like this a lot when I'm in my 30's) --Welp, I guess that I will be shocking all of the nail salon ladies in two weeks when I respond with, "No, I won't take the high school special, I'm 26."