Not never expected it. But usually I'm oblivious--
Subway was packed, my dogs barking and tired. Standing beside the clapping doors, with every chime before they closed, my hair would catch with the sweeping breeze.
side note: wear a mini skirt, more traffic will follow.
Six feet tall. Dark hair. Ruggedly handsome. His vibe not bad. He was the manly kind. They're either manly or they're not. He looked my way more than need be (much more), but given the place we were at...it was, well...it wasn't a good time for any eye contact, at least not the kind that gives a silent invitation. Or perhaps I wasn't ready to share what I was feeling. He was pretty cute and I was feeling less than stellar, not to mention tired.
...I just get nervous when people stare, especially when you don't mind the attention. I can be a classic Chickie-poo when it comes to the woman-man thing.
Yet on a lighter note, my days are freeing up, which is a gift. Time to write what I haven't been writing. Commit to the next script, or commit script suicide.
