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You: man about 45? Your right elbow was wrapped w/a couple of ace bandage strips, yet you carried your grocery basket with this arm. Nice grayish hair, sullen attitude, wearing a black/dark gray t-shirt with who-knows-what on it, I never got close enough to read it. I saw you look at me twice? Once in produce and then near the meat fridge. I rarely see my type, but know it when I see it: you're it. Me: petite brunette, denim jacket, motorcycle boots, light complexion, Italian—I'm in luv.
Both times I drove by you in your doorless beige truck, my imagination took me to coasting up the winding roads of the east Sandias. In those moments, I felt the crisp air all over me, I could taste nature. I felt the sensation of limitless freedom in the mountains. I've always dreamed of sharing that unspoken sense of aliveness with another. Thank you for awakening my senses and igniting the flame of my imagination. I'm bored with all the schmucks who live life so normally. - red.
Your blouse was red, your pants were blue, your lips were drawn upon your face like come-to-me tattoo; your hair light brown, your eyes bright blue, and if I had more talent, I'd write a song for you. OMG, you're even prettier than those Victoria's Secret models because you're real! You did look kind of sad, and had a small black armband on your left upper arm. I hope everything's OK and you're not in mourning. Thank you for making the afternoon a little bit brighter!
1100 hours, 27 Sep 2013. You: on gate duty checking IDs. Does your Flight Commander know you deliberately drop a woman's ID card so you can get a peek under her blouse as she's trying to pick it up? My girlfriend told me of a similar experience last month. Grow up, sonny. No wonder you have to resort to this kind of thing to get a peek at a woman's anatomy!