Formerly 'Rambling with a cantankerous old mule"
It’s been suggested that I am aloof and “just plain weird”. A child once even asked me if I was blind … My stock answer is that I am just too lazy to dig out my “normal” glasses when the sun is out of sight.
But that’s not the whole truth. And I am finally able to admit it:
The truth is that I do it for the good of all single women in my universe.
I think an SMS I received from a colleague at work earlier this week best explains the pickle I’m in…
“Robin, I sense there’s something you want to say, but I don’t know what it is. Your eyes say it all but your mouth says nothing (but maybe it’s my imagination) … Your eyes. Your eyes. The way you look at me. You know, every time you walk towards me (at the office) I wonder what you’re going to say. And all I see are your eyes. I know it’s strange and surprising. I keep on looking up thinking that maybe I’ll see you (before me); my eyes will meet your eyes. I’m sorry I can’t think straight when you’re standing there (across the office), looking at me … with those eyes …”
I blame myself for leading my dear colleague on. Had I worn my dark glasses more regularly in the office it would never have come close to this! Clearly, it’s crucial that women not be allowed to look upon these eyes. These eyes …
Oh, how I wish I were less of a babe magnet; how I wish these potent blue-green eyes were less overpowering. But in the meantime I, like the X-Men’s Cyclops with his visor, will hide my baby-blue weapons behind a pair of Oakley Pit Bulls.
(And don’t even get me started on why I don’t smile more. Letting these pearly whites loose on the world’s women would be an arsenal of attraction too horrifying to contemplate!)