What a Girl

Today on my way to work (still feeling like crap thanks to ongoing allergy problems and no packages in sight to be delivered), I get in the elevator with dude and he is checkin’ himself out in the mirror. Really? (There is a full length one in our elevator). I swear to you he is a better girl that I am!  Well, of course, now he’s gone and done it. He’s gotten himself into a conversation with moi and here it is:

Me: What are you doing?

Dude: Just checking out my shirt, I’m not sure if I look good in it.

Me: It looks fine on you.

Dude: But does it fit me right? It doesn’t make me look fat does it?

I roll my eyes. What did he just say???

Me: No, it doesn’t make you look fat. You look good in it. I swear you’re such a GIRL!

Dude: No I’m not. I just want to make sure I look good. You do that.

Me: I know, I’m a girl!

The he just starts laughing at me, like I’M the weird one. Go figure.

Me: You ARE a girl. How come every time you get into the car you gotta fix your hair and check yourself out in the mirror?

Dude: I want to be sure my hair looks good.

Me: I don’t even do that.

Dude: Yes, you do.

Me: NO, I don’t. When have you ever seen me check out my hair in the car.

Crickets. I hear crickets. Complete and total silence. Dude’s got nothin’ on me.

Me: See, told ya. Never.

Then he just gives me a goofy grin.

Me again: Dude, you’re SUCH a girl….

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