Next week, I’m celebrating a BIG birthday: 30! In acknowledgment of the fact that I’ve spent over half of my 20s working at The Frisky, I’m going to reach down deep into to archives and revisit some old posts. I’ll examine what I wrote at the time and how that has or hasn’t changed. If you have any suggestions of old posts you’d like me to revisit, tell me in the comments or shoot me an email at Jessica@TheFrisky.com. Earlier this week I wrote about “Why I Like Being Called A Slut In Bed.” Next up is … Keep reading »
Jessica’s Note on 11/23/11: An update to this post has been published here.
Late Sunday afternoon, I was lying around watching reruns of “Millionaire Matchmaker” when I realized I would fall asleep if I didn’t caffienate, pronto. I paused Patti Stanger, threw on my coat, and scurried to the local coffee shop. I expected a quick in-and-out, but one of the employees stopped to chat with me near a bag of beans.
You see, I go to this coffee shop three or four times a week and its always the same people working there. Ever since I moved into the neighborhood and quickly became a regular customer, I’ve had regular, friendly nod-smile-ask-how-are-you chitchat with them. You know, the kind of pleasantries that makes a neighborhood feel like “yours.”
So it wasn’t out of the ordinary to start chatting with this guy. Yesterday, as with every other day I run into him, we discussed only two topics: how are you and how’s the weather. I really didn’t want to chat; I wanted to get back to my TiVo on pause. So, I was caught off guard when he asked my name for the first time, told me his for the first time, and then said, “Sometime, I would like to take you out to dinner.”
Then I did something I’m not proud of: I burst out laughing, turned my back on him, and walked away. Keep reading »