So I’m sitting in the front row at one of the conference sessions, and I realize that one of the speakers is a total babe. He gives his shpiel, and it becomes also obvious that he’s really smart and totally plays for the home team. So I’m sitting there trying to look all suave and intellectually engaged in the topic at hand, and I pop a contact. Suddenly, I’m a twitching, tearing mess who can’t see a damn thing. I have to race back to my hotel to get my glasses before the massive eyestrain headache sets in.
And people wonder why I can never land a fella.
Now THAT’S a story! Good show old boy….
Awwwwwwwwwwww.
It’s okay, sweetie, he was trouble anyway.
You know, you could have asked him to bend over and pick it up. Or at least to moisten your finger so you could pick it up. That’s what I would have done, anyway. But you know me, all flirty and self-assured….
Although not a contact lens wearer, I can so relate to that. You spy someone, they set your heart aflutter, and all of a sudden you forget how to put one foot in front of the other and start knocking over furniture. *sigh* It’s so endearing. At least I hope it is.
Once again, Sparky wins the prize for the most endearing story of the week.
So, did he still look good once you got your glasses on? It’s such a great opener… “Say, aren’t you the sexy feller that started twitching and ran out of the room after I spoke.”
He couldn’t possibly resist.
Personally, I’ve usually got a drink in my hand in such situations, which I then dribble all over myself. Or over them, if they’re especially hot.