The Hottest Guy

7PM SUNDAY NIGHT: Bella is watching a movie. On her iPod. 1″x1″ screen. (This took 1 hour to download, btw and cost me $4, but she hasn’t complained about her pimples for about 15 minutes, so it’s worth the money).

Bella: He is the hottest guy. EVER.
Me: I understand. I met my man.
Bella: You mean that short Italian guy we met in TJ Max?
Me: Yes.

3PM SUNDAY AFTERNOON: And it wasn’t just his accent. Shopping for a suitcase has never been like this before. Who would a thunk it? Just as I am deciding whether or not to spend $59 on a leather wallet in TJ Max (yes, can YOU believe it? In TJ’s? $59?) a hot (and I mean not Bella version hot, I mean grownup, adorable, Lara DEAN version HOT), man comes over to me and, in a fantastic accent, points to his leather bound book and asks “can you tell me where that (Filene’s) STORE is”. I fluttered. I sputtered. I flirted. I spirted: Yes, it’s downstairs! Where are you from?” Italia. OH MY GOD. “What else are you wanting to do in New York?” I enquired. “SHOP”. HE SHOPS!!! Not an American man. I then proceed to list all my favorite places and restaurants, and sightseeing trips. It takes up 2 pages in his book. Where are you staying? Christopher street. Not available. He’s gay. With my girlfriend, he says. OK, OK. Girlfriend, boyfriend, whatEVER. Did I really think he was coming over to enquire about ME?

And then, while in line, with my new wallet, I see HER. And, I think, well, she’s NOT SO PRETTY. And I ask Bella, she’s not so pretty right? And Bella agrees. And then, I’m like (What the fudge am I teaching Bella?? Good mother, send her right into the waiting arms of therapy). Well, I say, she’s obviously got more than looks, and everyone should look beyond looks. Looks really don’t matter much in the long run, you know?

And, she says, of course not mom.

7:05PM SUNDAY NIGHT:
Bella: He is just sooo hot.
Me: I understand. I really, really understand.