I think I am being looked upon as attractive by a young lady. I can't be sure. Well I sorta can, but my cynical side won't accept it.
She works at my local supermarket of all places, and I thought that she might be mad, or blind, when she eagerly waved me a frenetic goodbye a few transactions ago last week.
I scuttled off in disbelief.
The following day I was back, stood in the queue, when I noticed her racing up to a till so she could serve me.
'Hello!' she beamed.
I went red.
'What is your name?'
'Fweng,' I whispered, in case the queue was listening, then read her tit and repeated what it said on the badge.
'I don't like my name though,' she added. 'I prefer Lisa.'
'Oh.' I said blandly.
'You like tuna?' she said cheerfully as she scanned my fourth tin of cheap Hobo-brand fishflakes.
'Uh, yes,' I replied with the ready wit of David Niven.
Then I left, and she waved a frenetic goodbye.
She's quite cute; Thai, I think. And about four foot nothing. But she is cute. Young though. Although I'm still slightly scared/ flattered/ bemused/ unable to know what to do next. My mind is conjuring up a billion different reasons why I shouldn't entertain any of this but, well, I'm a bit lonely.
Lisa was at a different till this afternoon. I'm not sure if she saw me. But I did notice her serving another young man and flirting happily.
Perhaps she just wants the UK equivalent of a green card, whatever that is. The vomit-coloured card, perhaps. This is just like the time I was convinced my orange hairdresser had a thing for me - and just like then I will probably spend the whole time getting panicky and worked up until I decide to do absolutely nothing, allowing some smarmy egotistical fuckcicle who's happened upon said lady and has no issues of low self-esteem to slot his fetid, overworked tool where my desperate appendage could've gone had I been more of a man and just flirted back.
Christ. I'm absolutely pathetic.