|His name is probably Jesse...|
Last week, I got a crack in my windshield. I let it linger but today decided it was time to get it fixed before it spread. I called my dad and asked him where to go. He then called our insurance provider and they connected us with a glass doctor who could come out to my job. Well anyway, I talked to the owner of the company who takes my number and informs me that the technician will call me when he's own his way.
At around lunchtime, I get a call from the tech. No joke, the conversation went like this. And please imagine that the setting for this convo is in a dark night club after about the fifth drink and just pretend that I've been eyeing this guy the whole night because he was talking to me as if to say, "your place or mine?"
Tech: (in what I'm assuming is his sexy nighttime voice) Yesss... Hi. I'm calling for um, Ashley. A Ms. Ashley...
Me: This is she.
Tech: Ah yes, Ms. Ashley...heyyy, how you doing? This is Jesse. Where are you going to be in around 45 minutes to an hour- better yet, where are you located now?
Me: *holding back a laugh* I'm actually at lunch but I'll- is this the glass doctor?
Tech named Jesse: Oh *insert pimp laugh* yes, yes.
Me: Ok, Jesse. I'll be back at work by then. Just call me when you're at my building.
Tech named Jesse: Okay, okay. Right, right.
Me: *hangs up phone*
Fast forward 45 minutes to an hour, Jesse rolls up looking dusty but potentially cute underneath the dirt and work wear. From our phone conversation, he was just what I expected... He fixes the crack he came for along with one that a previous technician claimed couldn't be fixed, "on the house," he said. He wrapped up and I asked him if he needed anything else from me.
Tech named Jesse: *looks around at tools* Ummmm, Nah, I don't need- well, I mean you could go to dinner with a brotha.
Me: *blank stare*
Tech named Jesse: *insert nervous pimp laugh*
I considered many things in the 10 seconds it took me to answer him. First of all, Jesse was not my type, but underneath all the dust, he was cute. He was dressed pretty rough, but I told myself he just didn't want to get his regular clothes dirty. It was a fair assumption that he was not as educated or employed as well as me BUT, here was a "brotha" trying to make an honest living. Also, he was completely different from the other guys I've dated, and well, you know that saying about the definition of insanity... Finally, he was bold enough to ask me out in front of some rather snobby looking characters also in the parking lot... So I said...
Me: Um Jesse, *laugh* you already have my number sooo... Have a good afternoon, okay!
I walked back to my office smiling, glad to know I had done my "brotha" a solid in the midst of those disapproving eyes and for not turning my nose up at someone who I most definitely would have in the past. Whether it was desperation or growth, I thought to myself, who knows? He could be my Idris Elba a la Daddy's Little Girls.
Then I got the following text a couple hours later.
I kno u at work but call me as well. Lok my number n under boo. N tex or call me whenever n what ever time u feel. I hope we hook up n kik it.
I can only blame myself. I'll be mass texting you all my new number soon.