I was in Milka's the other day (okay, it was yesterday at 3:09 in the afternoon - that's a joke, really), standing at the counter, when a man standing off to the side - you know, near the batteries, headache and sleep OTC meds, mosquito sprays and sugar free candy, along with a few hundred other miscellaneous items, that area - caught my eye.
'Oh! Did I cut in front of you?' I asked, because I was far from being in a hurry and I also have an anti-rudeness gene deeply embedded (at least out in public and with strangers). It was sort of a tossed off comment, until seeing him registered with me, as he replied he was in no hurry, take my time, etcetera.
I have to say, in that nanosecond look, he registered strongly. This guy had a perfect body, along with a generous and gorgeous smile. He was not ridiculously muscled, but nicely muscled, more than a swimmer, more than a runner, less than a weight lifter. And he wasn't wearing shorts to his shins, so all of those toned leg muscles were just there for the viewing. It wasn't like I was breaking my neck to leer ogle look, he was right there, speaking to me. In public.
It's only the most wee bit embarrassing to say I was, momentarily, speechless in the light of his physical beauty, but it's true. I gathered myself together enough to say exactly what I just wrote above. 'I'm good, I'm just enjoying the view, thanks.' The girl behind the counter gave me a laughing look and I said, 'Hey, this is what old women get to do!'. And it is, even though what the hell else was I supposed to say? Thankfully, I was masked.
No, of course I didn't take a photo. Really. I mean it. However. If I start grabbing tourists crotches, if I veer into Joanna land, someone please put me safely away, with love. Call Bike Steve, he'll know what to do.
Have a satisfying Saturday. Do something (only a teeny weeny just the very littlest barely seconds long) legally salacious. Oh, never mind. Do something sweetly that makes you sigh.
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