I have no idea what it is, but every single time I get hit on by a white dude, he has a goatee. I seem to attract a specific type, too. The kind that look like weekend bikers. You know, those guys who are tax paying, corporate citizens during the week, but wants to go all badass on the weekends? The guy, who at first glance, you might think is a member of some skinhead group? Yeah, that guy.

I was at the grocery store earlier today, minding my own damn business, when this white dude with a goatee walks up and stands real close to me. Too close to me. There was, maybe, six inches of space between us.

Generally speaking, I'm one of those people who doesn't like it when people take liberties. Standing too close to me, making assumptions about certain things, being too familiar with me, etc. Space invaders annoy me even more than chronic door holders. Oh, don't get me started on people who hold doors open for you when you're still in the damn parking lot! Forces you to break into a fucking sprint to get to the door, 'ya know, 'cause you don't want to inconvenience the damn door holder! Selfish bastards!

Anyway...

As I'm making my way to one of the open self checkout lanes, I glance at goatee dude because he was in my line of sight. I guess, to him, that meant go stand uncomfortably close to this woman who, obviously, has no interest in you, whatsoever, and try to pick her up.

I see him coming towards me, so, I quickly look away in the hope that he will get the message and just move the fuck on. In fact, I was still walking when he placed himself in my path, and extended his hand. Using his best "I'm a white dude trying to sound like a cool black dude" voice, he said, "pretty sistas get to go first." Okay, first of all, that sounds EXACTLY like something a serial killer would say. Secondly, there were two open checkouts, so, it's not like he was letting me use his checkout. CREEPY!

I was so taken aback at how close he was standing to me, that, what he said didn't immediately register. Then, I thought about it and the first thing that came to mind was that episode of Martin where he goes to his 10th year high school reunion to confront his high school nemesis, Ricky Fontaine, "Pretty Ricky what they call 'em." This made me smile, which goatee dude probably misconstrued as a green light, not that he needed any encouragement. He was super confident and all up in my shit.

When he extended his hand, I reached out to shake it, 'ya know, 'cause I'm generally not a rude person. I was going for a quick hand shake, but he held my hand as he introduced himself and asked if I'd like to have coffee with him. I smiled that polite, fake smile that we all do from time to time and told him that I was a gay lady... that I only "had coffee" with the ladies. Not missing a beat, he said, "that's cool, we can still hang out." In my mind, I'm like, why would I want to do that? I, politely, declined in that, "thank you for offering, but, no, I would not like any croutons," kind of way.

At this point, I just wanted to pay for my shit and go. I was done being polite to this fucker and felt my irritation level rising. So, after declining for the second time, I just walked away from him, paid for my groceries and left.

On the drive home, I started thinking about my encounter with goatee dude and what I took away from it. The one thing I know for sure is that, "Pretty sistas get to go first" is a line that I, absolutely, have to work into a conversation... perhaps, the next time I am at the DMV, I will walk to the front of the line, turn around and proudly proclaim, PRETTY SISTAS GET TO GO FIRST!

Comments (1)

I followed a link from a random contact-of-a-new-contact on twitter and ended up here. I think I love you in an "on the other side of the country but RIGHT ON pretty sista" kind of way. :-)

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