Weird Thing of the Week

Last week, I got into an elevator and took it to the first floor.  As the doors opened, I was about to exit but a man was waiting to enter.  He was about to move aside to let me off of the elevator when he abruptly stopped.  Which had me abruptly stopping as I had already taken a step forward.

So I stop, sort of look at him and he’s staring at me.  In fact, he’s got a bit of a shocked look on his face.

“Can I have your phone number?”

*Blink*

What the hell?  I immediately turned my head around, started looking for who the hell this guy is talking to.  Seeing no one, I turn back around to face him and said, “Excuse me?”

“Can I have your phone number?” he asks.

Except this time, he said it louder so I could hear him.  A lot louder as a matter of fact.

I stared at him.  I mean, what the hell?  Not even a hey how are ya or some kind of typical come on line?  Nothing?

So I was a bit uncomfortable because now the elevator is making an awful beeping noise as the doors have been held open too long, and I said, “Ummm, excuse me.”

I exited the elevator, dodging him as fast as I could.

“Okay you won’t give me your phone number,” he says, chasing me down even though I’m fast walking, “can I give you mine?”

I stopped, I sighed.

I looked at him, really took a good look at him.  I smiled, and said, “I appreciate your interest, and certainly appreciate your candor, but I am seeing someone.”

He blinked and looked surprised.

“Seeing someone? I know you are here seeing someone.  What does that have to do with giving me your phone number?” he asks.

Okay, seriously.  What the Eff.  Now my interest is piqued, I mean, what the hell is going on??

“Forgive me, why is it you’re asking for my phone number?” I said to him.  ”I’m not following you.”

He looks at me for a moment, and finally says, “Aren’t you Jasmine?”

“No,” I said, “I’m not Jasmine.”

He pauses for a moment, reaches his hand in his coat pocket and pulls out a pair of glasses, which he puts on, stares at me for a minute more and says, “Oh!  You’re not from *Insert name here* Escorts?”

Um. What.The.Fuck.

An Escort Service? I looked down at myself.  I was wearing jeans, a shirt that yes, showed a BIT of cleavage but nothing out of the ordinary, and brown boots.

“You called for an ESCORT?” I asked, loudly.  ”And you think it’s ME?”

“No! Well, yes, but” he stammered, “my friend called for one and I thought you were her.  You’re gorgeous and I thought you were her…”

And now he’s sort of mumbling and walking backwards to get away from me.

I immediately stepped forward, now stepping him down. “I look like an Escort?!” I yelled. People stopped to stare, as this was a crowded place.

He turned beat red, and also turned and ran away.

Wow! What a day.  Now tell me, is one flattered by this, or yeah, not so much?  Eh, I decided to be flattered.

Yup.  A new title!  QT-ESCORTS.  ;)