Dear Ridiculously Attractive Guy Who Sold Me My New Car on Saturday,

When I walked up to the group of salespeople and you were the one who stepped out to show me around the lot, I nearly turned around and left right then and there. Seriously? I thought. Send the cute guy my age out to sweet talk me into buying a car? I've been studying advertising techniques since the fourth grade; I see exactly what you're doing here. Well, I did buy a car, but you had very little to do with it.

That's not to say I wasn't aware of the fact you kept changing the radio in every car I drove to a good station and started telling me all about your creative pursuits when you found out I'm a writer. Got super excited when you found out we practically share a birthday. Kept asking if I live alone.

And then today I got my mail. Is it normal for salesmen to send thank you notes to their customers? I figure yes, probably. It's good business to follow up with customers and keep the lines of communication open. But is it normal to fill the card with compliments about my being the kind of "intelligent, positive, and fun" person that "makes [your] job fun"?

Not sure about my next steps here, so I'm asking my readers. Am I supposed to drop by the dealership sometime or let it all drop?

Hugs & kisses,
B

Dear Feminine Wiles,

You've been entirely absent most of my life, and I got kind of used to it. Yes, I wanted to think there would be a day I might be attractive, but in reality, never able to imagine a time you'd ever be on, I built up no strategy for turning you off. But it seems I need to learn.

First, it was my one true love on State Street. Last week, it was the man (Bingo, he called himself) on the bus who offered me a seat. On his lap.

And today, it was on my way out of the library. I got a (and I quote), "Damn, girl, you are fine," complete with some kind of wolf whistle. Thank the Lord it's day light in the evenings now.

The thing is, now that you apparently exist, suddenly, after the awkwardness of my teenage years and beyond, I don't know how to handle this type of thing. From behind my eyes, I'm still the acne-speckled, overweight, unstylish girl with split ends, and it's hard to believe that these forthright displays of attraction aren't some kind of joke.

And really, even if that wasn't the case, I'm pretty sure it's uncomfortable for everyone to be wolf-whistled and lap-offered. So while I appreciate the fact you finally decided to exist, you need to chill out when I'm around creepers, okay? Because that's not cool.

Feel free to crank it up, however, around non creepers. That I don't object to.

Hugs & kisses,
B

Dear Bare-Chested Man Wearing Your Shirt On Your Head Who Hit On Me at the Bus Stop on State Street Tonight,

Thanks for the sound advice regarding what to do with guys who aren't, like, totally into me (, man). Thanks for the sight of the compelling tats across your ribs. Thanks for suggesting we celebrate the night (even though I -- rats! -- had to go home and finish some work). Sorry about your girlfriend whose name you overlooked in the canine descriptives you lobbied in her direction. How could anyone not go for a perfect 10 like you, a regular machine gun of profanity?

Above all, thanks for giving me a good story, and for entertaining all the others at our bus stop. Well worth the price of admission.

Hugs & kisses (or rather ... not),
B

Dear Coffee Shop Patrons,

You there, giggling loudly over board games on a Tuesday morning.  Do you see me?  Nursing three books, my computer, and a sugar-free latte?  Head tucked down, hair falling into my eyes, trying to think?  It's hard work, this thinking.  But you, you laugh about your game and your free schedule and your happy brain sighs in relief.  What then should I do?    

Love,

A

This guest letter brought to you by my dear friend A.

Dear Prospective Jobs,

Here's a tip: if you require applicants to complete more than 1 page beyond the requisite résumé and cover letter, you're being ridiculous. Those of us who need jobs don't have time to spend three days on a 15-page application. We will be happy to fill out your application after you review our résumés for an initial fit, but requiring the completed application before we're even sure if we like each other? That's like asking a girl to make a three-course meal before deciding if you should take her on a first date.

(Hint: you won't get any dates that way.)

Hugs & kisses,
B

Dear Stranger Who Smiled At Me In the Coffee Shop Today,

Don't deny it. You followed me in here. You spontaneously decided to come to the coffee shop after we passed each other on the sidewalk. I know you weren't originally intending to come here because you only spent 10 minutes in here . . . and didn't order coffee. You just sat down near me, read a page in your book, and then made light conversation when you stood to leave. It was all a pretense.

But don't worry. I'll be back again. And (I'm pretty sure) so will you.

Hugs & kisses,
B