Sometimes I wonder what other people think
of me.
Not
often, but sometimes I do.
I
know that there are plenty of people out there who just don’t like me. (Just
ask any of my exes.) And that’s just
fine.
Sometimes
I wonder what the guys at the shop would say about me, if someone asked
them: “What’s she like?”
Am
I . . .
A
bitch?
Funny?
Sarcastic?
Weird?
Smart?
I
think that I am all of these things and more . . . but I realize that the guys
at the shop don’t really know me very well.
None
of them hit on me, so obviously none of them think of me in “that” way. Or they know I’m too old for them; or they
respect the fact that I am unavailable.
Maybe I’m just the chick at the meat shop to them.
