Go Ahead, Jon Gosselin, Make My Day

Every morning I go to the same gas station on my way to work.

A few posts back, I found a dog there.

Today, I found a man there.

Well, okay, so I didn't really "find a man" there per se. In fact, we didn't even speak.

I pulled up and got out of my car to purchase my overpriced energy drink of the day. I turned my french rap down so that no one would notice how much of gangster I am. Walking up to the entrance, I tried clicking the door-lock button on my remote to no avail. Something about this particular gas station blocks the signal. Every single day I try to make the doors lock using my clicker and every single day they don't lock. Luckily, I never buy more than a single energy drink and I bring in my wallet, phone and keys, but it makes me uneasy to open the door to the Mapco and never hear the satisfying click of my car doors locking behind me.

On this particular day I was feeling pretty svelte and awesome looking. I was wearing a new blue and white ruffly shirt underneath my black suit jacket tucked into my black criss cross BCBG skirt. Which, by the way, is the only thing I own that could in any way be called designer. I bought it at TJ Maxx for 10 dollars on clearance. In any case, I was wearing an outfit that, in my opinion that morning, made me look both sexy and expensive. So when I opened the door to the Mapco, I noticed a few heads turn.

The usual couple of landscaping Latinos were getting coffee and conchas, those little shell shaped glazed donuts. I had been on a diet for almost three months, and had lost nearly 25 lbs. I reached for the sugar free red bull. Once stepping into line, I was distracted by a older gentleman, maybe in his late sixties, in front of me who seemed very chatty.

"Look at you all dressed up!" He stopped talking to the older lady in front of him and actually tipped his hat to me. "You look so sharp, I gotta let you go in front of me." And he stepped to the side.
"Aw, thanks." I smiled. I did only have that one drink. It wouldn't take but a second for me to pay.
"You must work in an office building. People who work in office buildings don't smile enough. You have a pretty smile."
"Thank you!" I said, and turned just in time to see the guy at the front of the line turn to leave.

I swear he looked just like a skinny, more attractive version of Jon Gosselin. Dark hair with a dark complexion, and deep set eyes. I noticed the eyes first because they slid sideways at me as he pushed open the door. He was dressed nicely enough. A button down shirt and some black pants. I didn't get a good read on the shoes, which always seem to be the most telling article that men wear, but that was all because he kept looking at me, burning a hole through the side of my face as I turned back to the older gentleman.

"Do you smile much at work? I bet you don't. I bet you only smile when the boss is smiling."
I put my drink up on the counter.
"I smile! My boss smiles a lot. Maybe that's why I smile so much."
He was pumping gas outside, I noted, looking through the window.
"People don't smile unless the boss is smiling. Why is that? I want all my employees to smile. All the time. Office people are never happy, are they."
I swiped my card. "Well, they treat me pretty well at my job. So maybe that's why everybody smiles." And the clerk handed me my receipt.
"Well then you've got a good job! Stick with it! But I don't have to tell you that, they'd keep you around just for decoration," the old man said. And he laughed a little too loudly.
"You have a nice day, sir!" I smiled back at him and pushed open the door, myself. I was thinking about what the old man said for a second about how office people never smile. I decided that he was probably a manager at some shop or store, and he was probably a darn good manager, too. I bet he wasn't rich, but he was good people. Like Flannery O'Conner thought was impossible.

The Jon Gosselin lookalike broke my concentration. He was still looking at me from the gas pump. Back and forth, here and there. It wasn't a creepy steady gaze or anything. Just an I'm-letting-you-know-I'm-looking kind of thing. He looked professional. He looked nice. And established. He looked down to shut his gas cap, and I smiled to myself, hopping into my unlocked car. I left the door open for a few seconds and made room in my cup holder for the very unhealthy Red Bull I was about to drink.
Glancing up at my rear view mirror, I saw the back end of his black Honda drive off.

Even though we never spoke, he had already made my day.

It was almost overkill when I passed his car heading toward the turn lane and caught him looking for me again. And the last time I saw him, he passed my car on his way around a corner. In my peripheral vision, he was STILL eyeing me.

Okay, so you might find that a bit creepy. But it made my day. Compliments and open gawkers? Bring it on. At this low weight, which I haven't been since a bit after college, I expect these things. And I revel in them.

Frankly, though, if Jon Gosselin had spoken to me, I would have spoken back. Still, if I'd found that it actually WAS the REAL Jon Gosselin, I might have run screaming in the other direction.