Repeat Offender: A(nother) Walmart Story

CTJJ5N Front view of a Walmart supercentre store exterior sign logo Ontario Canada  KATHY DEWITT. Image shot 05/2012. Exact date unknown.

I don’t always get hit-on at Walmart, but I don’t get hit-on anywhere else. Must be the lighting.

Last weekend I got hit-on at Walmart again. I was standing there, trying to figure out if I should climb on the bottom shelf to try to reach the last 2 jars of marshmallow fluff on a higher shelf, all the way in the back. (I need marshmallow fluff for the fudge I make every Christmas.) Out of nowhere this guy comes up next to me, touches my arm in a familiar/flirting way, and says in a low voice, “Excuse me, are you married?” Whaaaa…??

creepy-gjyI instantly recoiled and stumbled a few steps back. “I’m divorced,” I mumbled. But I also remember thinking, Who are you? Why is my marital status any of your business? Then I turned and got a good look at him: he was a guy who’d hit on me exactly a year before, in the same store!

He kept talking. “That was my son I was with back there.” I gave him a blank look. (I vaguely remembered passing him and a younger guy a moment before, but I didn’t feel like adding any fuel to the idea that I might have actually “noticed” him, or that I was interested in anything other than finishing my shopping.) Undeterred, he continued: “I saw you walk past, and I said to my son how beautiful you were, and he said I should go talk to you.”


He then launched into the same story he’d told me a year earlier, about how his wife had walked out him 20 years ago, and he’d been a single father all this time. He talked (again) about how hard it was to be a single dad, having to do all the cleaning, all the mopping, all the household chores all alone, and how he was looking for someone to share the everyday part of life with – pretty much the exact same sob-story he’d

THIS is what you want!

No, not a girlfriend. THIS is what you want!

told me then, too. I wanted to tell him to google Merry Maids, but bit my tongue. (And he kept bringing up mopping – must have mentioned it at least three times. Why doesn’t he just get a mop-version of a Roomba?)
Clearly he didn’t remember me. Maybe I should’ve been offended. Instead, I was just relieved. All I wanted to do was get away from him, because he was giving me the creeps, just like a year ago. As soon as he let me speak, I said, “Sorry, I’m not in a place where I’m dating right now. Good luck finding whoever you’re looking for.” And went on my way.

I never did get that marshmallow fluff....

I never did get the marshmallow fluff….

Holding Out for Harry

Harry Winston

Met a cute guy a while back, things got interesting over the past weekend. He seemed to be a great guy – “rescued” me from a douchebag on Fri night, then came over on Sunday to help install some new shelves I’d bought. And he was great with my kids. And an excellent kisser. 🙂 We really started to hit it off.

Then, on Tuesday, while I was at work, he sent me what was essentially a booty-call text.

I was intrigued at first (like I said, he’s cute!), but then I played the scenario out in my head. Yeah, I didn’t need that in my life right now — not that fast.

Then I thought about it some more and decided I was actually kinda miffed. Seriously? We hadn’t even been out on one, real date — let alone crossed second base — and he was booty-call texting me?

So I declined, via text, and blew off my unsettled feelings. Whatever. Harmless sexting. But then he wanted to talk on the phone.

So I called him after work. He wanted to know “how I was feeling.” So I told him I was kinda pissed-off: we hadn’t even been on one “real” date (going to the home-improvement store and putting up shelves is NOT equivalent to a Saturday-night, planned-in-advance date, like he’d been on, that Saturday, with another girl he was also seeing — which I was totally okay with, since we weren’t “in a relationship” or anything yet), but here he was sending me a booty-call text? Yeah, I was steamed. Feeling kinda like I was being treated like lesser-grade. (I’d gone from “available to text chick” (different guy — long-gone) to “available to fuck” ?!?!?!!??)

He told me he was “only joking,” but admitted that, yeah, he wouldn’t have been opposed to his text being taken at face-value. I told him I wanted more out of a relationship. I gave him the WalMart/Harry Winston analogy.

He said good luck finding Harry. Said he didn’t understand why I’d “taken such a strong stance on this,” and he was now going to delete me from his contact-info.

Wow. Just wow. I responded (politely — I read my text again today, and yes, it really was honest-but-polite), but he’s had nothing more to say.

I was feeling down all day, because I’d really liked this guy. But I can’t let myself be treated like second-rate, disposable goods. I want to be treated like a rare, precious, valuable commodity. Like the unique individual that I know I am. Like a human being.

Damn, why is this such a struggle — to believe that I’m worth more than the ways that people have treated me, in the past? (Long, ugly story, my past. Not for this post.) But the point is, if I don’t treat myself like I’m worth more, then no one else will treat me like that, either. Right?

The Rules: #3 – Walmart

Yeah, I know. It’s sad that I have to post this. But it comes from more than one experience, lately. (I mean, Walmart? Seriously? I can’t even get a guy to hit on me at a bar – let alone buy me a drink – and you’re hitting on me in WALMART?!? And you’re not even offering to pick up the tab on my orange juice??? Ugh! Leave me alone – I’m shopping, here.)

Consider this my PSA of the day. 😉

The Rules #3 - Walmart