Friday, March 9, 2012

Food Baby

It's no secret that women are often the objects of unwanted attention.  Since I've been single, I've mistakenly given my number out to men who I have had no intention of talking to or dating, simply because I've been too polite to say "no" when asked.  I'm still trying to determine how to tow the line between respectfully declining attention and being a bitch. 

Case in point:  Over the summer I gave my number to a former NBA non-starter who now coaches at a local college.  While I had no intention of ever getting together, for some reason (either the booze or his ridiculously intimidating height) I gave him my digits.  I ignored his first 5 text messages before telling him that I wasn't interested and apologized for misleading him.  That has not stopped him from texting me an invite to every event he has attended since August.  I consistently ignore his messages, but could have gotten a chance to accompany him to countless collegiate and professional sporting events. I declined every one.   I almost accepted the invite to the Barclay's PGA tour, but I'm holding out for NBA playoff tickets instead. 

My mistake with the NBA retiree taught me that it's ok to be firm and reject someone I meet at a bar...especially the kinds of men who I've met in bars.  Taking my own sage advice, I was out one night with my girl friend Katie at her local watering hole.  I found a seat at the bar (uncommon on a Saturday night) and started talking to a a girl next to me while Katie was gallivanting around. 

A man sidled up next to me and struck up a conversation.  I wasn't interested, but not wanting to give up a seat, I entertained the conversation for a few minutes and hoped he would go away.  I assumed that he'd be smart enough to recognize my curt answers as disinterest...but you know what they say about assumptions.  So there I was, held hostage on a bar stool. 

I had two choices: (1) wait for Katie to come and rescue me or (2) reject the man staring at my breasts and trying to get into my pants.  Since option (1) wasn't going to happen until the either bar closed or the men disappeared, I was stuck coming up with something to say to let the guy know I wasn't interested.  Knowing that a band aid approach is easiest, I simply told him, "I'm not interested." and hoped he would leave me alone. 

But it wasn't enough.  He wanted to know WHY I wasn't interested and complimented some part of my body, presumably as a means of making me change my mind.  I told him, "No trust me, I'm really not interested." but he just kept talking.  At this point it was do or die.  I wasn't about to let some annoying guy who can't take a hint make me give up my chair and so I did something that I'm not proud all...but nevertheless think is genius.

At this point it's important to let you all know that while I might not be terribly large in stature, I possess a strange ability to puff out my midsection, especially after consuming food or drink.  My family and friends lovingly begrudgingly refer to this as my "food baby".  At this point in the night, I had been drinking vodka sodas for a few hours and so my belly was rather full.  Realizing that there was no other way I was going to get this man away from me, save for telling him I had a penis (a close second choice) or leaving my barstool (not a chance), I made a decision. 

I puffed out my stomach and turned toward him.  After swirling my drink and taking a sip, I looked him in the eye, put my hand on my belly and said, "One drink won't hurt the baby, right?  It's just vodka!"  I've never seen a man run away from a woman so fast!

Food baby (watch out, she kicks!)

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