Hot With A Capital H

by SJP

So these were my first thoughts:  “I’m irresistible.  No really, I am.” 

And I know that sounds really over confident, straddling the fine line between self-assured and arrogant, but it totally was not my fault.  He made me think so highly of myself that morning. 

See, I actually thought this little situation was going to have adverse affects.  I wondered if maybe it was going to make me think I’m unstoppable; that I’m the cream of the crops around Midtown.  My ego might get so inflated that I’d stop wearing makeup all together, or even say “Screw it!” and stop styling my hair and instead just walk around with a wet mop on my head.   Because at that point, I reasoned that it really didn’t matter what I did to enhance my face, the bottom line was…

I’m freaking naturally gorgeous

And I thought I could prove it! 

As I was attempting to break the layers of ice off my windshield yesterday morning with a cheese grader (don’t judge me I live in the south, I’m not prepared), I noticed out of the corner of my eye a tall dark haired specimen walking my way. 

“Weird,” I thought.  I wasn’t wearing any make up; my face was pale and plain in desperate need of moisturizer.  I had baggy jeans with a long sleeve up to my neck.  There was no magnetic pull to him from my cleavage and the jeans were too loose to accentuate any sign of a rear end.  My hair was wet with knots after my shower a few minutes prior; in short, I looked like a ragamuffin.  The only logical explanation was that I was making too much noise banging on the ice that early in the morning. 

“I don’t think a cheese grader is the best tool, although very clever!” His voice was deep and surprised me, I wasn’t ready for that kind of manhood at this hour.  “Hot Neighbor With A Capital H” let out a laugh at the sight of my distress and stuffed his hands into his sweatshirt pocket.  He was tall, had an olive complexion that stood out against the white covered streets, and flashed his straight teethed smile.  He brought out an ice-scraper-winter-thingy, or whatever, and started to break through all the ice on my car.

I clasped my hands underneath my chin, stars and hearts escaped from my eyes as I leaned my body to the left like a true Damsel In Distress, thinking

“Myyyy Heroooo!”

And somewhere in between the explosions of fireworks between us he offered to drive me to work in his all wheel drive SUV.  He took the long way, driving super slow even though there wasn’t that much ice which proved to me he was falling in love with the idea of dating me.   We laughed over our similarities in running, biking and sprint triathlons and after realizing we belonged to the same gym set up a workout that evening.   I bursted with joy recognizing he wouldn’t be able to contain himself at the sight of me in spandex!  It was 20 degrees outside and 5 inches of snow was on the ground, but I would bet money that he and I could melt the ice if only we could just lay there.

But then, things took a turn. 

I attempted to send 14 a few harmless, flirtatious texts during the day to which he only replied to 3 of them. 

When I walked in his house that evening to go to the gym, he didn’t take time to show me around or offer me a glass of red wine in attempts to loosen my inhibitions and forget the gym. (Apparently he doesn’t understand how many calories you can burn while making out)

As we were walking together into Colony Square, I stepped ahead of him and purposely accidentally dropped my phone!  As I bent over alluringly to pick it up, I looked behind me with a grin to coyly say, “ooops!”   But he just walked around me without a flinch. 

I found him running on a treadmill after I was done stretching and went right next to him.  I suggestively started stretching on the machine and he looked over once and waved and resumed his run without taking off his ipod.  A few times during my own run, I tried to make eye contact, to which he was having no part of. 

Do you know what this means?  He’s totally not what I thought he was.  He’s an imposter!

No, he’s not a “”Nice Guy”, he’s a jerk!  He’s sending mixed signals.  Who escorts a pretty little angel to work then invites her to the gym, to be casually polite and not flirt?!

FREAKS OF NATURE! That’s who.

There are no such thing as “Nice Guys”…

Scholars maintain they have been lost in the depths of history.  Fossil records indicate that the “Nice Guys” predominantly ruled the Earth until about 65 million years ago.  Since the first major fossils were recognized in the early 19th century, mounted “Nice Guy” skeletons have been major attractions in museums throughout the world.   The explanation for their extinction has been a great debate by intellectuals everywhere.  The nature of the event that caused this massive extinction has been extensively studied since the 1970’s; although the general consensus is an impact event occurred, likely a colossal meteor of some sort.  The historical “Nice Guys” have been featured in best-selling books and films such as, “A Walk to Remember” and “The Notebook”, all the while an audience in awe of their long ago wonder.  

So you see, he’s not nice.

He’s gay.