Wednesday, August 13, 2003

I'm a terrible flirt.

Chris the ex-cafe guy, the one who once lifted up his shirt in front of me and I gasped at the sight of his kung fu-toned abdominals, came into the bookstore last night, and he told me that I never made him feel uncomfortable at the bookstore with my attempts to "convert" him when he worked there. (He said "convert," not me.)

"What good would it do to convert you?" I asked him in front of his girlfriend. "You obviously can't dress, so there's no way we could make you gay."

Chris was wearing a "Conserve Water ... Drink More Beer" T-shirt. His girlfriend smiled at me and muttered in agreement. I paused.

Then I said, "Well, I guess we could always make you wear nothing."

When I said that, neither one of them looked amused.

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