Muy Bonita

I have this friend named Nani. Yeah, she's pretty much the coolest person I know. No matter what time of day it is or where I am, when I am on the phone with Nani, I am smiling.

For some reason, people really like my smile. That is the number one thing I get complimented on, second being my butt (Laura upon hearing about the National Age Group Championship: "Girl! I told you that butt was gonna get you places!").

Last Saturday, before the REI garage sale, I gave Nani a little jingle jangle as I walked over to my favorite local coffee shop. I had parked my car at Matt's house and was walking the 4 blocks from there. I strolled down the street without a care in the world, elated to be talking to my Nani-meister.

Allow me to paint the picture for you: It's a chilly Saturday morning and I am bundled up in my new red flannel and my black Patagonia jacket. I've got my Lucky jeans and Toms on... nothing special. The air was brisk as I laughed into my green and yellow phone (Go Ducks!). Two cars pulled up to the stop sign across the street from me. The man in the first car waved to me.

"Hmm... I don't know that car," I think to myself. "It must be a client."

I give a slight wave back and continue on my way. The man in the car behind the first waves to me as well. Again, I wave back despite not recognizing the vehicle. The man pulls to the side of the road and waves me over. Though I am hesitant, I think he must need directions, so I walk toward the car, keeping a slight distance between my body and the car door.

The driver smiles at me and asks me my name.

"Oh... maybe he takes my cycle classes and can't remember my name," I ponder on the thought.

He asks if I speak Spanish.

"No."

He tells me I am muy bonita.

I must have heard him incorrectly. Is he really hitting on me and telling me I'm beautiful after I said I don't know Spanish?

"What," I ask.

"Muy bonita," he says.

I blush and laugh, thanking him kindly.

He proceeds to ask me if I have a boyfriend.

"Yes," I lie. "I do."

"Ohhh," he sighs, disappointment showing on his face. "Can I get your number?"

"No," I shoot back.

"No?" he asks.

"No."

And I walk away laughing my head off.

That's the end of my story. Happy Friday!