Let’s travel way back in the Kat Box time machine with some vintage Katness from years ago. The main character in this little tale, a super cute sales guy is now happily married (not to me!) with offspring and owns his own company…but even still, he still flirts shamelessly (and harmlessly, Mrs. Salesman, harmlessly) with me in that salesman-y way and I still act like a doofus extraordinaire.
Sweaty Palms and Failing Deodorant:
Meeting An Attractive Male
Kat O.
Recently, a friend told me she was envious of my confident demeanor in the presence of eligible men. I laughed until I snorted, and then admitted that I never feel particularly confident in those situations; in fact, I usually feel like a contender for the Doofus of the Year Award. My friend seemed skeptical, so I thought I’d take you inside my head for a recent meeting with an attractive gentleman.
It all began with a phone call. He is a sales rep for a local company, and he wanted to meet with me to tout the wonders of his business. We had a nice rapport over the phone and I really enjoyed talking to him, so I decided I would allot some time to hear what his company was all about. Normally, I refuse to see sales reps, as I don’t have time for such in my busy day, but he swayed me with good conversation.
I came off the elevator at the appointed time to find him in our lobby, waiting patiently for me and my lack of punctuality. First thought, “Great googly moogly, he’s handsome in that suit.” Second thought, “I wish I had a Tic Tac.” As he followed me to a conference room, I wished I’d been more dedicated to my Buns of Steel video.
We talked. He told me about their company. When I moved my hands off the table to look at the brochure he offered, I noticed my hands had left gross moist prints from my nervous sweaty palms. “Oh gawd, I hope he didn’t notice,” I thought as I hid the sweat with my elbows. He explained a little about the company’s history, and I sort of blanked out, admiring his smile. I really enjoy a man who looks at ease, and this fellow looked mighty comfortable across from me in that suit.
I shifted in my chair to scratch an itch and felt a trickle of sweat run down my side; what a day to skip antiperspirant and go for the cruelty free save the whales won’t clog your pores deodorant that is notorious for allowing my armpits to smell funky at this hour of the day. I clamped my arms down at my sides and tried to look casual. His hair reminded me of wheat fields in summertime, though I’m not even sure what that means; my brain was very foggy in the presence of this man.
It was soon my turn to do some talking, and I am good at that part, I know. I was in my element, talking about the network that I tend to and the PCs that I keep functional. I was determined to get some personal information out of him, so I threw a couple comments out to see if he would admit anything personal. Sales reps usually won’t yield any personal info; they want to sell, sell, sell. This handsome gentleman did throw out a little info, straying from the sales pitch and demonstrating a good use of vocabulary. “Wow, good looking and he knows big words!” My stomach did little cartwheels.
I didn’t want him to leave. I wanted to sit in the conference room for hours to study his shoulders backlit by the afternoon sun. I worried that he was only talking to me because he wanted me to sign a contract with his company. I imagined that if we’d met anywhere else, he’d probably snub me for his girlfriend, and I envisioned her as a cheerleader for the Dallas Cowboys or a Penthouse Pet. I convinced myself he was out of my league.
The next day, he stopped by unannounced. I wished I was wearing my I-am-a-powerful-IT-diva dress instead of my casual Friday attire. Just to see him as I rounded the corner made me blush. He smiled and I put myself back in his league.
So…on the inside, I’m not all that confident, folks. I’m sweaty and silly and bewildered by the opposite sex. I haven’t figured out how to suggest hanging out with him outside the realm of business to see if he’s interested; frankly, I’m sort of embarrassed to suggest anything. If I suggest coffee/cocoa, and he’s creeped out by the notion, how will we avoid awkwardness in future meetings? My hands are damp on the keyboard just thinking about it. A recent article in a women’s magazine suggested I shouldn’t pursue men I’m interested in; instead I should wait for them, but that’s just not my style, no matter if my armpits are stinky and my hands sopping wet.