The 'IT' Factor

'It' happened again.... Chris must just exude manly hormones. He must give off enough testosterone that all of North Carolina is just blown away as he walks by. I know I am, but you see THAT'S OKAY. I'm allowed to be. Pretty much, I'm the ONLY one ALLOWED to be. I'm thinking of creating some personal signage to tag on him when we go out. It's a good thing that, when he's not at work, we are almost always together. (Well, I think that's a good thing, and given the circumstances lately, I'm not letting him out of my site.)

SO...we're in Nordstrom. He's athletic shoe shopping. We're not close enough to a Dick's Sporting Goods (we're not close enough to Nordstrom either, but after an hour and a half in the car 20 more minutes seemed brutal) so who could pass up the Nordstrom shoe department, with sales. Anyways, there we are. They had the shoes he wanted, and in his size, which is the whole reason we went up there because the shoe store in our town NEVER has anything in his size. Mr. Sales Freak -- who must be snorting something each time he goes back to get shoes because he was as perky as...well as anything. I don't do perky, so I can't even think of a good comparison. But perky he was. And loud. But mostly perky. But manly. I want to make this point, that no where in the course of a day would I ever think this guy was necessarily -- less than manly, until the whole shoe shopping conversation.

And so, he brings out 8 bazillion shoes to offer, and giggled (snickered, twittered, whatever, you get my point that it was odd) each time Chris said "no thanks, I just want the ones I came here for."

"Are you sure you don't want me to measure you? You would get a true fit?" (Big heinous grin amidst perk on steroids.)

"No, I know my size. I'm good."

"Here are your shoes. (other useless pleasantries I can't even remember, I'll get to the point now.) WOW, you must swing a hammer or be Popeye or something. Those forearms are huge! (Turn to Greta) Your dad has huge bulging arm muscles doesn't he!"

And then, of course, trying not to fall out of my seat laughing inside my head I was all "WHAT???!!!" and then thinking of how hilarious this was going to be on the blog.

This guy went on and on, and then when Chris put his sandals back on the guy remarked "Ahhh, now I see the tan lines, you must be in golf."

As Chris was checking there was more inane conversation. Isn't it amazing how slowly seconds go by as you are aching with every fiber of your being -- or every bulging muscle in your arm -- when you just want to bust out of a place faster than a freight train? The whole checking out process was like a time warp. And when we walked away, we both just shook our heads.

So BACK off everybody...I know he's great, but he's mine!