My In-N-Out Daddy

Definition Getting hit on: an encounter where a complete stranger approaches you with some form or romantic interest (date, sex, maybe even love).  

Do people actually enjoy this???

It typically begins like this… You are standing at the coffee bar of a Starbucks in a half conscious trance contemplating your life choices.

Some guy reaches across you to grab a napkin and asks “Can you pass me some sweetener?”  

You kindly oblige and then attempt to go back about your business. As you stir your coffee with one of this silly wooden sticks he begins a conversation. While his eyes gaze up and down your body like some kind of X-ray machine in a TSA line he asks you about your career and whether you have any cats.

No dude, I only have one pussy, and I know THAT is the one you are thinking about right now.

You quickly decide he will never be your husband. Thus, you must now craft a creative path to get away from this guy. You bring up a “boyfriend” or pretend you have a work meeting, even though its Sunday at 11am and you are wearing yoga pants hungover AF.  

Now if someone reading this is thinking “That sounds like a blast, this girl is cray!” you clearly have never skydived before.  Because that is in fact a blast.

Don’t get me wrong, I would enjoy getting hit on if this act was completed by incredibly hot men that look like they Chris Hemsworth: Tall, hot, beautiful, kind…etc.

NOPE.  Doesn’t work like that.

Instead, I am epiclly great at pulling OLD ASS MEN.  

There must be something about me that screams, “Wrinkly semi-functioning dicks: THIS WAY!”

When I say this, my girlfriends are like…

”Go for the older men, they know what they are doing.” (wink wink)  Or, “Most old men have moneyyy.” (nudge nudge)

Sorry girls.

I am not going to have sex with a 65 year old father so that he can take me to Ruth Chris steakhouse on a Wednesday evening.  

These old men are not like Denzel or George Clooney.  Who I would totally date.

It’s old men like this:

I am sitting at an In-N-Out in Yuma Arizona waiting for my burger and milkshake to be called out.  

Some father-y looking man wearing a collared shirt, dark jeans and a windbreaker from 1980 starts chatting me up about his car window replacement business. He has maintained a solid head of hair and the wrinkles on his face show he has lived a full life in the sun.

He hands me his business card and asks me to come check out his Honda Civic in the parking lot.  He just finished tinting his windows (one of his services). He would love to show me what he can do.  

“The tint is so great, it isn’t even legal.” He says with a wink in his voice.

Ohhh, we have a bad boy old man on our hands tonight!  Rawwrrrr.

Excuse me.  Now, I know I am not a supermodel, but do you really think I look like someone who would like to go fuck you in the backseat of your Honda Civic?  Pull down those Kirkland signature jeans and do your thing, daddy!

No.  Hard fucking no.

My only option is to pray to the In-N-Out good lord almighty that they call my number within the next 30 seconds.  

Miracles do exist! For just as he begins to stand closer…they call out #26!!

I now understand why their cups say John 3:16 all over them. My prayer has been answered, I believed in the good lord. Although, not sure window daddy and I will an everlasting life together.

I bid my friend farewell.  Hop in my car (with its tinted windows) and enjoy my milkshake all to myself.

Those are the types of instances I think of when I hear the phrase “get hit on”.

So sad, yet so true.

I know I shouldn’t complain. For one day, I will be old and wrinkly (because I don’t do Botox). I will look back on theses days with fondness and wonder, why on earth I didn’t let this guy tint my rear window.

So, what do you think about getting hit on now?



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