He's Got Betty Da-, er, Bedroom Eyes

I'm scared of the guy at Subway near my office. About six or seven months ago, he wouldn't stop staring at me when I went in for lunch. He held my gaze the whole time I was telling him what to put on my sandwich. He never even looked down to pick up the pickles and onions. At first I thought I might know him, but because I'm not from Birmingham, I knew that couldn't be right. And then he spoke.

"Dang. [Whistle] So sexy. Whoo."

Excuse me, what?

[Big smile] "Yeah, you know it, too, don't you."

Oh, pardon me while I vomit.

So I avoided that particular Subway until last week. I felt sure he wouldn't be working there anymore, and anyway, I needed to get over it. So I went.

And he was there. And he remembered me.

And I've since heard from a few of my friends who have had the same experience.

The guy must have a thing for blondes.