Tuesday, April 2, 2013

The Trap

I finally, FINALLY, took my car in this morning to get fixed up after my accident in August. Yeah. AUGUST. First people were refusing to give statements, then everyone was fighting over whose fault it was, but it was never MY fault, and I gave my statement, so I just waited patiently for my check, and now I get my damn car fixed.

So, I take Miss Marilyn to the auto body shop today, and get picked up by a cutie from the car rental company. As we're driving to get my loaner, we're chatting, and seriously within five or six sentences he just had to awkwardly drop in, "my wife blahblahblah..." Either to let me know, or remind himself, that he is married.

What, did it seem like I was trying to trap him with my insistence on being oh so nice?

It amuses me how guys assume any time you're remotely polite, you're flirting. I mean, I would have flirted, had the opportunity presented itself, but I had yet to flirt, and he had to go and shoehorn his wife into the convo, in a totally inorganic way, just to point out he had one.

Silly boys. It's like once they're taken, they think every vagina is a trap, a honey trap, built to entice, lure, tempt, taunt. Was it absolutely necessary to mention the wife? Could we not have had a nice, pleasant conversation, and parted amicably, without him having to mention his marriage license?

Apparently not.

I don't really have a point, except he was a well-trained husband.

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