Brandon had to take a business trip to Vancouver BC a couple weeks ago and I had to get away. So what do you do when the stars align in such magnificent form? You go on a getaway with your husband that makes you feel crazy, sexy, and cool. Whaaaat!?
I spent most of my time alone relaxing and exploring while he was at a convention.
I had time to remember what it's like to think my own thoughts without interruption, spend time getting dressed up, order room service while watching Beyonce's documentary, you know, basically doing things that aren't playing house.
Seriously, the best.
I cruised around those Vancouver streets without a care in the world. I felt alive and exhilarated, and dare I say hot. I mean, you guys, not only did I spend like an hour getting ready but before I went out I took a long bath AND snuck a beauty rest/power nap in. So of course I felt good. I was practically living my own version of JLo's life. Okay, maybe not. But whatever.
I was feeling so confident while shopping on the ever so popular Robson street that I wasn't at all surprised when some guy approached me with some "phony" excuse to hit on me. He was pretty good looking and really friendly.
We were talking about where I was from and what I was doing that night as I waited for the light to turn green so I could cross the street. All I kept thinking is "Oh man, I hope this doesn't get awkward. Can he see my wedding ring? Make your wedding ring more visible. He's staring at me. Clearly I've still got it."
We had a brief conversation, and as the light turned green I proceeded towards the corner. This was the moment we'd part ways nicely or I'd have to break the news to him that I am T-A-K-E-N. Taken.
I quickly, mentally prepared for the worst. I'd let him down easy. We'd laugh about it for a second then walk away.
Those preparations were all in vain, because when he turned to me and smiled, he uttered the most disgusting words in the english language.
You know the ones.
He looked me in the eyes and said "Have a nice day ma'am".
"haaabaaaandyouutooo" Is all I could mutter in response. Jibberish.
I'm lucky I didn't fall to the ground, get struck by a car and left for dead.
Did he just call me ma'am!? I know he didn't just call me ma'am. He just called me ma'am. This dude who I assumed was my peer just mistook me for a ma'am. Clearly I'm not a ma'am. Am I a ma'am?
Turns out he was just reaching out to a lonely old lady and I was that ma'am.
And ya know what, I suppose thats not so bad.
(Not really. Don't be an idiot. If you call me ma'am and you're older than 12 years old, you're getting punched. Next time I'll be prepared.)
Thanks for the reality check friendly gentleman.
Am I the only one that hates the "m" word?