Yes, the job title of this guy sounds intriguing. It’s not exciting, I just don’t know what his actual job is so this will do. You’ll understand why as the story unfolds.
As your detective skills have already determined from reading my previous posts, it’s clear that I work as cabin crew. On this particular day after landing back from a long haul night flight, my car was dying for a drink so I stopped at a petrol station on the way home to satisfy the poor thing. It was this supermarket petrol station that set the scene for my oh so romantic encounter with Sean*, the stranger boy racer. I’m going to inspire you to imagine how this looks for an outsider. Yes I am in full uniform which some may find attractive (I don’t) however, after working a nine hour night flight on about 4 hours sleep for the previous 24 hours, my hair was a mess, my make up had slipped from my face and I’m pretty sure it was hard to determine whether the dark circles under my eyes was smudged eye make up or genuine evidence of how shattered I was. To put it bluntly, I looked like a zombie from an apocalypse movie who had just happened to stumble across the uniform of a flight attendant and put it on for kicks.
After paying for my petrol and buying a much needed sugar kick in the form of a toffee crisp, I got in my car and willed myself to start the journey home. As I was pulling away and driving towards the exit, I could see a car start to jolt forward from one of the petrol pumps that was to my left. This car kept coming forward towards me so I had to swerve to the right of me to avoid being hit. The other car stopped and I followed suit. I looked to see some guy who couldn’t have been any older that twenty looking at me and getting out of his car. Again, I followed his lead and got out the car and vaguely remember the words “What is wrong with you? Did you decide to just not look at all when you nearly drove into the side of me?” He just stood there and looked at me for a minute. Ok this feels uncomfortable. His excuse for why he’d nearly smashed into my car was ridiculous. It’s something you think would be really cute to hear and some awful screen writer somewhere has probably used it as the way two people meet before falling in love. To me it sounded like the stupidest thing I’d ever heard and I almost felt insulted I looked like the kind of girl who would fall for it. I kid you not when I tell you that his reply to my anger was “I’m so sorry. I saw you getting back into your car and I needed an excuse to talk to you because I think you’re stunning. I figured even if I did hit you, the bump in my insurance would be worth it.” Please, Lord, give me strength. Naturally I was a little speechless by this. I looked anything but stunning and I’m pretty sure I was wearing a big sign on my forehead saying ‘Fuck off. I am not in the mood’. He continued on to ask me for my number like it was the most normal thing in the world after he’d nearly rammed his modified Renault Clio into my passenger door. First of all, get rid of those stupid wheel rims and throw out the awful low modified bumper you’ve got; you’re not 17 anymore buddy. Second of all, absolutely no thank you! I politely declined, muttered something about being more careful next time and got back into the car to make my escape and get to my bed!
What guy in their right mind thinks that would be the best way to get a girl’s number? I mean, obviously he was a little cocky and thought I’d fall weak at the knees at his grand gesture but what sonny boy over here didn’t think of was the fact I just didn’t care. Boys, if ever you think it’s ok to nearly drive into a girl as an attempt to get her number… Think again. First of all, it’s stupid. Second of all, it’s stupid. Third of all, it’s stupid. I do hope the little tyke finds a girl who’s heart melts at his risky attempts of romance. I, however, will move on to find a man who does the old fashioned stuff that doesn’t mean a nearly smashed up car.