I recently wrote a post about how my boyfriend Chris’s neighbor has been flirting with him, and how it sparked in me a desire to resort to the laws of nature and mark my territory.
“My territory” of course being my boyfriend. And I’m assuming that when a woman refers to a man as her ‘territory” or the implied “property” that it’s cute and endearing, not belittling and insulting like it is when man does it to a woman. (And if I’m wrong, sorry honey! Nothing but respect for you. For serious.)
Anyhoos, so for weeks I’ve hoped to run into her every time we pulled into his parking spot or left his house.
Then last Wednesday night Chris told me that he’d run into her that afternoon and as she engaged him in small talk she started to complain about sore muscles, and then began to stretch. And by stretching I mean she arched her back and thrust her (I’m assuming saggy and deflated after 5 years of breast feeding) boobs up and out toward Chris. Followed by bending over to touch her toes, putting her posterior on full view. And at the same time communicating a certain level of flexibility.
I believe in the animal kingdom this is called “presenting”.
Did I mention she was wearing yoga pants and a short t-shirt? Because she totally was.
On the following Saturday morning Chris and I were leaving to go to breakfast, and as we walked down the sidewalk toward the parking lot, I looked up and saw a woman standing beside the car parked next to Chris’s car. She had a crying baby on one hip and a cell phone in one ear. I looked at Chris, “Is that her?” I asked, in a voice possibly a bit louder than a whisper.
He gave a barely perceptible nod. I’m pretty sure he was terrified I’d make good on my threat for a public display of…we’ll call it affection in order to mark my territory.
I quickly took stock: I was uncaffeinated, lugging my backpack on one shoulder, my purse clutched in my other hand, my hair wet from the shower, and Chris was walking about a foot away from me. Hmm, hardly the tour de force of statement making I’d been envisioning for the first time I came across her.
AND, she didn’t look anything like I’d pictured. I’d been picturing a woman who was short and apple-shaped, wearing mom jeans, cheap hair color and baby spit up on her shirt. But this woman, was tall and fairly slender, with cute capris, decent looking hair color and a clean and dry shirt, despite the crying baby attached to her hip.
As we got close to the car, she moved around to the far side of her car. Weird how she suddenly seemed so disinterested in making small talk with my boyfriend. Hmmm.
Chris opened the passenger side door for me, and I climbed in, cursing the anti-climactic nature of the moment. This was my chance, not just to mark my territory, but, and perhaps more importantly, to have a great story.
I mean, seriously, how great a blog post would it make if I had a confrontation with her and told her to “stay away from my man?” with a sassy toss of my hair. Or if I’d pushed Chris against his truck and kissed him boldly and passionately in a way that communicated, very clearly, that he would have no need of her church’s singles group, thank you very much. I could hear the cheers out in cyberland as I imagined myself posting such a blog.
As we backed out of the parking spot, she came around to the back of the car, and her eyes were clearly focused on Chris. After a moment he gave a hesitant wave, and she responded with a big grin, and took the phone away from her ear to wave back. I gave her my best “Oh, It’s On Bitch” smile as I waved as well.
We’re going to call this the practice run.