Tessa Time flies when you’re having imaginary sex in the back room.
Stamped: November 2nd, 2005 | Toggle Similar
Tagged: cry for help, secret crush of the week, work.
When working a minimum-wage part-time job in retail, salesgirls rely on certain perks to get through those monotonous five hour, no break shifts. For example, the fifty percent discount. Time seems to crawl a little faster when I can walk around looking like I'm straightening camisoles and blazers, but really I'm just picking out the lovely cheap things I can buy with my next paycheque.
Then there are the less expected, but equally satisfactory benefits. Like when, in the middle of a frustratingly slow shift, the most unbelievably sexy male specimen strolled into the store. I don't know how to get across exactly how sexy he was. He looked like an Abercrombie & Fitch model. Like a blond younger brother of Wentworth Miller (who has recently replaced Jude Law as my ultimate fantasy boyfriend). When I saw him, I instantly went all weak-kneed and fluttery, like those stupid girls in trashy romance novels, and the more I tried to control myself, the worse it got.
He was with a girl, but I knew she wasn't his girlfriend. She wasn't hot enough. You can say whatever you like about my superficiality and bitchiness, but gorgeous, well-groomed guys don't go out with dumpy girls with mousy hair and a fondness for polar fleece. And I was right: she was his roommate.
I'm sure Mr. Gorgeous was incredibly bored just sitting there while his friend tried on a succession of increasingly unflattering outfits, but for me, that half hour just flew by. Luckily, I was working in the section right next to fitting rooms, so it was easy enough to size sweaters while surreptitiously checking him out. Every so often he would glance back at me, and then I would give him a sort of half smile, meant to imply that even though I looked busy, I really wasn't, but I would be totally up for getting busy if he felt so inclined. And then he would smile back, which I told myself was not just to be polite, but instead to signal that he wanted to sweep all those sweaters off the table and have his way with me right then and there. And then I would look at him sitting there, so hot, so bored, so obviously wishing he could be doing anything else, and then I would think of those fitting rooms with the full curtains and the mirrors and the oh-so-convenient ledges. And then I would get so distracted that I would size an entire stack of shirts in reverse order, and then I would try to clear my head, but then I would catch another glance from him and be instantly reduced to a quivering mass of lust.
AND THEN I had the most horrifying thought. What if he's gay? Don't get me wrong, I love gay guys in general, but if this particular boy were homosexual, it might put a bit of a kink in my plan to elope to Vegas with him. My mind raced frantically. What kind of straight guy goes shopping with his roommate? But then, what kind of gay guy could have such a primitive effect on females? (It wasn't just me; every other girl in the store was whispering about him.) Could it be that I'm completely lacking in that special twenty-first century kind of female intuition known as gaydar? And if so, could somebody give me a crash course? Anybody? Because if by some perfect miracle I ever see this boy again, I'd like to know if I have even the slimmest shot at that backroom rendezvous.
Last 5 posts by Tessa
- What a Girl Wants (because if I have that godawful song stuck in my head you all should too) - November 17th, 2005
- Put that on a Post-It, bitch. - October 20th, 2005
- Road Rage - October 6th, 2005
- contrary to popular belief, this is not a sex blog - October 3rd, 2005
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Comments
I’m a lesbian, and I’d consider having sex in the backroom with Wentworth Miller. Especially shaved head Wentworth, he’s pretty damn fine—a nice combination of ruggedly handsome, with a touch of beauty. Though, he’d have to be clean shaven. I can’t do man hair, sorry!
Some girls have gaydar but just don’t recognize it. Like those girls who always fall for gay men. My initial take is, if he’s shopping with his female roommate, then there’s no way he’s a Kinsey 0. Guys typically only do that in return (real or imagined) for sexual favors. He’s either lost a bet, or floats somewhere between a Kinsey 1 to 4, which means, let your imagination have its way with him. Cause he’d be willing, or willing enough after a drink or two.
Now all you need to do is figure out how to bring introduce a flask of Tequila into a “Can I help you…” conversation, and insure that security cameras and your boss is missing for about a half-hour. I might even suggest the backroom or a fitting room, because its pretty hard to cover up being taken on the sweater display. Save that for when your ready to quit.
I think I need to voice the opinion of the minority here. It’s entirely possible that he’s neither gay nor has he lost a bet.
Other options may be that he was just completely bored at home and thought going to the mall would be better than sitting on his ass at home. Maybe he wanted to do some window shopping while his roommate did some real shopping.
I call myself part of the minority because I often go shopping with my female roommate. I find that she gives me honest opinions on the clothing I try on. I’m not a big fan of shopping by myself. At the same time, I’m not getting any sort of favours from her at all, be it sexual or otherwise.
“gorgeous, well-groomed guys don’t go out with dumpy girls with mousy hair”
I’m one of those guys and I actually like them a little dumpy.
He’s not gay. If he were he wouldn’t have been sitting there looking bored, he would have been giving mousy girl fashion tips (Lordy! The gay stereotypes are just flying left and right).
have to agree with betty here. I think if he were gay he would have been more involved in what his friend was doing ( fashion tips and opinions ) - girl to girl stuff
There’s an easy gay/straight test. If he comes into the store again, walk up to him and ask “Would you like to have sex with me in the changing rooms?” That should clear things up pretty quickly.
Great advice, everyone.
And Betty, can you say “Lordy!” again?
Why do well-groomed, well-dressed boys need to always be GAY?
What? We have to swear sweatpants and sports-team logoed attire to be straight?
Geez. Just cuz I shop at A|X and Barneys doesn’t mean I don’t loves me some poon.
Now take off my pants, dammit.
(Just, please, fold them at the crease and place them neatly on the side of the bed. Thanks.)
“gorgeous, well-groomed guys don’t go out with dumpy girls with mousy hair”
Actually its usually the reverse. Doesn’t take a rocket scientist to figure that out, however it may take more than a retail clerk.
Actually, asshole, I’m not a retail clerk. That’s just what I do to pay for school.
Sure sounds like you’re a retail clerk.
*Grabs Andy’s and Michael’s head and smashes them against each other*…
Whatever.
You know, I could have totally been that guy. I mean, I am not implying I am *that* great looking, but I have ended up going with a female friend once or twice for stuff like that.
And indeed, most likely the one way I go through those boring times is to just space out and have good times in my mind… See, what if that girl who was smiling at me was thinking about those fitting rooms too?…
ARGH… “Social norms” and all that crap…