The Heat Made Them Do It, Right?

When it's 80 degrees by 9 a.m. and it's only the second day of May, the heat is bound to affect people. At least that's what I'm thinking got into the guys who talked to me when I walked Grace Street this morning.

A Hispanic-looking guy who only came up to my shoulder (and I'm just 5'5") and had to be half my age was walking toward me and stopped to give me the full head to toe scan. Then with a big smile, he said, "Hola, hot stuff." I admit it, I laughed. Not at him (well, perhaps a little) but at the sheer audacity of this very young, very small guy's Spanglish.

Coming back on the other side of the street, a guy walking toward me said, "Hi Karen," and I had not a clue who he was. But then he asked, "How's Sparky?" and I knew I was sunk because clearly I had talked to him before. "You don't remember me again, do you?" We had met almost two years ago he said, and I'd run into him several times since, including at Kroger once and not recognized him any of the times. And he's an attractive guy.

When he asked if I was still living on Catherine Street, I told him no, that my boyfriend had broken up with me so I'd moved to Clay. "Well, you're looking great," he said unexpectedly and that's where he got emboldened. "So, could I get your phone number?" I explained that I don't have a cell phone and, tellingly, he asked, "Well then how can I get hold of you so we can hang out?"

He changed directions then and started walking with me. I explained that I wasn't really ready to "hang out" yet but I'd be sure to recognize him next time I saw him. Then I picked up my pace and continued on. "Keep it up," he yelled from behind. "You look amazing!"

Whether it was the heat or hormones, I realized then that there was a lot to be said for the first guy keeping it short and sweet.

Gracias.