I don’t get hit on. (Yes, peanut gallery – that may very well have something to do with my appearance in the above photo, but so the hell what?) Mister, on the other hand, occasionally receives attention from female admirers. That guy never knows it’s happening, mind you, but it does happen just the same.

 

Anyhoo, we were in Boston earlier this summer, walking around a street fair. Mister was wearing the t-shirt shown above. He was buying something from a vendor at the fair, where a couple of gorgeous, college-age gals were working. One of them looked into Mister’s face and said, “I really like your shirt.” I was about a foot-and-a-half away, witnessing the scene, and noticed Mister was so engrossed in getting the doughnut he’d just selected and purchased that he didn’t hear a word that cutie-pie said. So I leaned over and said, “Thank you.” Without taking her eyes off Mister, that too-cute-for-her-britches babe said, “I wasn’t talking to you.”

 

Let me be clear about something. I’m not the jealous type. I just don’t tend to that direction and I don’t have any reason to go there. The only reason I bothered to thank that young chippie for complimenting Mister’s shirt was because I didn’t want her kindness to be ignored. That would be rude and I didn’t think Mister would want to come across that way.

 

But I don’t give a rat’s ass if I’m rude, so after that brazen broad said she wasn’t talking to me, I leaned a bit closer to her and said, “Yes – I know, dear. But my husband is wearing my shirt, so thank you.”

 

Mister, thoroughly enjoying his dessert, never heard a word. We walked away together and shared that doughnut. It was fabulous. And well-rounded.

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