Only Up North...

Okay, so I was at the store the other day, stopped by after work, to pick something up. Anyway, as I was walking around trying to find what I needed, I happened to cross a shelf of movies that were only five dollars. Curiosity overcame me and I had to look. What if I missed a perfectly good chance at getting a good deal?

I was crouching down, knees bent and my body leaning towards the hundreds of DVD's, when he came by. He was tall and slender with dark hair and a set of crooked teeth. He didn't look that old, really, but age was the farthest thing from my mind just then. I didn't notice him standing behind me until he spoke.

"Hey little girl."

I scowled at the movies before turning toward him. I wasn't little. When I saw his face and the look in his eye I realized he hadn't meant that as an insult, but as something else. Something that I was not at all prepared for.

"Hi," I said uneasily, refusing to rise from my position. The distance was fine where it was.

My scant reply was all it took for him to set off on telling me all these plots to a dozen "good movies" he had seen, which were probably all rated R; the reason why none of them sounded familiar to me. I played along for a while, acting more agreeable then I would otherwise, but answering truthfully when he asked if I had seen any of the movies he spoke of.

An employee walked by just then pushing a large crate of boxes. I was forced to stand and press myself against the shelf so that he could pass. I straightened my pose, sorry that the distance was closed between me and this stranger, and yet I couldn't help but feel happy that I stood a few inches taller. Ha! 'Little Girl' my foot!

He asked me a few questions that I prefered not to answer. So in my most inconspicuous way, I deliberatly left out every bit of important information, telling him, upon his asking, that I lived 'not far from here' or that my folks lived 'down south'. My worries that maybe I was being rude, vanished when he asked his next question.

"Do you have an old man?"

I looked at him confused. I just told him I had a dad. Why would he ask me that again? "Erm," I shrugged, "I have my dad?"

He shrugged too, redirecting my thoughts, "I mean, do you have a boyfriend?"

Oh, great. This can not be happening to me! The thoughts were so loud that it was hard to hold together my fasle display of cheery-ness and resist stalking off. I never had this problem down south!

I answered honestly after deliberating whether or not to lie. I should have lied. Maybe the rest of the conversation would never have happened...

"So can I call you up sometime?" he asked with a crooked smile, more literally than imaginable.

I should have lied. I was a bit frustrated at the entire occurence. Why was this happening to me? "You don't even know my name." I threw at him, lighter than I wanted to.

Naturally, he asked for my name and told me his. I'm not at all sorry that I forgot it just as soon as it left his mouth. There would be no reason for me to remember it. But I remember the name of his exgirlfriend. Her name was Hailey. And their daughter's name is Zoey. Yeah, the rest of the conversation was little unnerving on my part. I really didn't want to be there. It turns out he was just released from prison for selling drugs to get money for his spoiled daughter. "I'd do anything for her," he said, as if this statement would somehow make his actions justified.

We talked for a little while longer, well, he talked, I listened. I refused to give him my number, when he asked a second time, telling him that it was private. He didn't seem too pleased about that. I was glad when he finally left, even if it did cost shaking his hand. I couldn't help but feel dirty after shaking. It was like touching money... if that makes any sense. I hate touching money. I can just feel the dirt and grime and everything else. It's really weird. Anyway, I got what I needed and practically bolted for the door. I had been out later than I realized and I was ready to get home. The half hour drive home gave me time to contemplate...

What's wrong with the guys here? Or better, what's wrong with me? Why do I "attract" all the wrong ones. This isn't the first time I've been "noticed" by a guy. Oh, no. Even pulling into the store parking lot a guy gave me that nod, where it's like the opposite of sneezing; instead of throwing your head down, you pull it up. The Dude-Nod. Yeah, I had to laugh at that one. Even as the car pulled away and the boy turned around in his seat to stare at me. I couldn't help it. I laughed more out of shock and disbelief than anything.

I guess all I'm trying to say is, this sort of thing would have never happened down south (as I noted earlier). It's weird. Ever since I moved up here things have been different. I mean, guys are everywhere! I don't remember ever being noticed by them before, or maybe I was just too oblivious... I don't know, maybe it has just come with age. Maybe it's just the fact that all the boys I knew before were with me through all those awkward stages of childhood. Hmm. I don't know. I still haven't figured it out. ...I think I preferred my obliviousness. I wish guys would just leave me alone. Honestly. ...Or, maybe it's just because all the guys who have noticed me aren't my type -or more specifically, aren't members of The Church. That's it. That's what I mean by the "wrong" sort. Ugh. I hope I have better luck up in Idaho... it would be a shame to go all the way up there, into the very roots of our religion and not have anything to show for it, no fruit for my labors... Yeah. That would be terrible.