Pretty please

Back in high school we briefly hung out at this pizza joint where a barefoot Romanian dude who didn't speak English made you a pizza pie that gave you the runs for cheap. We were cheap. One day FriendA, FriendB and I were sitting down to something resembling a pizza when we spy an attractive girl walking toward our table. FriendA and I look at each other and then turn to FriendB and make him promise he won't give her a slice. "Psha, just 'cause she's a cute girl? No way!" Thirty seconds later FriendA and I have our heads lowered and our palms to our foreheads in shame. Says FriendB, "What? Like you wouldn't have done the same!"

Fast forward to a few days ago when I spy an attractive woman dressed to allure in the parking lot as I walk to the entrance of Costco. I walk past her and turn back after I hear, "Excuse me sir, would you take this cart back with you since you're walking that way anyway?" It was petty far, a pretty big cart and a pretty big favor to ask a stranger I thought. Pretty presumptuous. I love to help ("everyone's Superman," according to a friend), but I have a chip on my shoulder about being used. So I flagrantly smirk at her as if to say, "Lady, I just bet you're pretty used to having guys do things for you just because you bat an eyelash!" I mean, I'm really about to say that out loud, but my manners compelled restraint. So I compromised and just stared and smirked in such a way that any other person would have taken the hint and said "That's ok; I'll do it myself." And she just smiles back. She knows that I know exactly what she's doing and she's enjoying the power trip. I want to say something nasty, but it's just not in me to be that way.

Thirty seconds later I'm walking behind a cart I have no intention of using. I smile at the ludicrousness of the little episode that just transpired. I caved, but won in my own little way because I maintained a gracious attitude, at least outwardly. Still, I couldn't stop thinking about it for the rest of the day. Boo to selfish manipulators--a trait that gets under my skin probably more than any other. Scratch that. It's one of a handful.