Diana Darby ** "I V" ** Intravenous

Men Like You

The man who stood in line in front of me at the grocery store
hit on me.
Hit on me like it was 2 a.m.
and we were in a dark bar
and I was buying a vodka tonic.
Hit on me,
like I was at some weird singles party
that involved wife swapping and satin sheets.
It was weird.
Really weird.
First he asked me my name.
Then once I gave him my first name,
he wanted to know my last name.
Thankfully,
I didn’t give it to him.
Then he asked me what I did for a living.
When I said “writer,”
his eyes lit up
like I had just announced I wasn’t wearing
any panties and I knew of this great motel
around the corner
that offered a discount on rooms used just for the afternoon.
He asked me where I was from
and if I liked Nashville.
When I told him Houston, and I didn’t,
he asked me my top five reasons why not.
I said:
1. The drivers.
2. The food.
3. The conservative mentality.
4. The smoke.
5. The weather.
I should have said,
“Men like you”.
Then he asked me if I wanted to come join him while he ate his lunch.
I just shook my head “no”.
He went and sat down
and a few seconds later he came back and handed me his business card.
“If I ever need any painting or re-decorating.”
Right.
Next time I check out I’m going to make sure I’m standing in line
behind a woman.