Some Girls…..

Some girls get all the luck. And the looks, and the humour, and the intelligence, and the fashion sense, and the elegance… and every other good thing you can think of. 

But I am pretty sure I was running late that day when they were giving these gifts out to people. 

Picture the scene…. (I know folks, it’s another shit story, apologies in advance.)

Yesterday, the sun had come out for a bit so off I went to the exotic world of…  the shops. 

I grabbed a bit more than I planned for , so I started lugging two heavy bags of shopping back. 

There came a point on the journey home where somebody had left their wheely bins in the middle of the path way. As I got closer to them, I noticed a seriously hot builder walking down towards me. He had a huge wooden crate in his muscly arms. He had black hair, was tanned to perfection, had a pencil tucked behind his ear and looked LUSH. Lush I tell you. 

He had on a white t-shirt and ripped jeans. I on the other hand…. 

I had my hair in a scruffy plait, I had six hour old make-up on, I had a scruffy cardigan, dotty skirt and knee high socks. Now listen, I’m not trying to be some weird Glee extra (as much as I would love that….) or some crazy sort of sock trend setter. I have just always LOVED knee high socks. Seriously, I think the whole female population should wear them. In fact, I love them so much that once, when I was about ten years old, my Mum brought me some ankle socks for school and I had a bit of a hissy fit. Yes, at ten years old. I remember crying and protesting…. “But these aren’t knee highs! I can’t even pull them up or stretch them. What is life? Aaaaggghhh.”

Do not get me started on trainer socks. 

So anyway, this fit builder guy and I came to a stop at the annoying wheely bins. I am weirdly polite and have a need to please people, so I nodded indicating he should go through. 

To my delight and embarrassment, he stayed where he was and looked at me as if I were mad. 

“Ladies first.”

Rather than be normal and accept this, I felt bad for the guy. 

“No. You have something heavy… you go first.”

“I’m not moving til you’ve walked past sweetheart”…(yup, he’s a builder alright.)

And still, I didn’t move. 

“Are you sure because……”

I don’t know what the because was, I just sort of trailed off. 

Then I decided I better just do it. So I walked past meekly and my cheeks were very red at this point. 

I said thank you in my most horrific high pitched girly voice. 

“You know, you tried to make it easier for me, but your stubborness has just made the thing i’m carrying heavier.”

Oh shit, I had been walking off, and he was still talking. 

I didn’t know what to do so as I turned around to find him grinning and LITERALLY shaking his head, as if I were the dumbest thing he had ever come across (alright , I know. Leave me alone!) , I shrugged. 

Just like they do in books. And in my fanfictions. Ha! 

I shrugged and smiled. I had no answer for him. I had no clue what to say. So I shrugged. 

He actually said bye, so I did as well. And then we both walked away. 

Which leads me to believe two things. 

1) When I try and help people, I make things worse. And…..

2) I can strike up a conversation with anyone, anywhere, anytime, no matter how ridiculously stupid I look. 

Oh dear. 


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Inventing the world that's passing by.

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