Or Bizarre Encounters with the Opposite Sex
Yesterday, while out walking with Isaac, I was approached by a man who looked like Antonio Banderas. (You didn't really think I met Antonio Banderas, did you?) Mid-fifties, slick black hair, long gray pea coat, black dress shoes. (To give you a visual.)
He said, "You have a beautiful daughter."
I stopped in some confusion, glanced at my son, and then glanced back at Antonio (we'll just pretend). He was, in fact, speaking to me (as opposed to someone who actually had a daughter). I briefly considered ignoring his oversight, but then decided I might as well correct him. Wouldn't want Isaac to get confused by overhearing his mama say something like, "Yeah, she gets that all the time."
"Actually he's my son."
"No, really?" Antonio said, with some surprise.
I blinked. A myriad of responses flew through my brain: Yes, really. He pees standing up and everything (a lie; he's too short). Actually I've forgotten, maybe I should check again. Ah, now that you mention it, I think he may be a girl. Shoot, this is really going to put a damper on his joining the Boy Scouts. Oh, I don't know. Are you really a man?
Instead I just smiled and kept walking.
After a somewhat awkward pause (we were walking in the same direction, you see), Antonio said, "Should I buy you a drink?"
This was followed by another long pause. I wasn't sure if he was asking me out, or if he was apologizing for assuming my child was a girl. So I just said, "No, that won't be necessary."
At which point Isaac ran off in the direction of a store that used to keep toy trains in the window display, so I followed him. Ten minutes later, Antonio was walking alongside us once again.
This time, he tried a new tactic. "Are you Danish?" (Now why do people keep asking me that? I'm exceptionally short, a brunette, and have a distinct American accent. I haven't got a shred of Scandinavian in me. Possibly some German, though.)
"Do you live alone?"
And onto our fourth awkward pause. I mean, who asks that kind of question, really? If you want to know if I'm available, ask that. It's way less creepy, I promise.
"Actually, no," I finally said. And then, "I live with my husband. He's a bodybuilder, a bull fighter, and was casted in the Godfather but had to cancel the gig because he wouldn't stop bringing his dobermans onto the set." (Actually I just wish I'd added that last bit after 'I live with my husband.' Antonio's response would've been classic.)
At this point, Antonio finally seemed to realize he was making little to no progress, and excused himself by saying, "Oh, okay. You have a lovely evening, then."
Yepp. Me and my daughter will have a lovely evening. Bye.