Butterfly Kiss Scandal

Anyone who has met me in person could tell you that I am not much to look at. I do have one striking feature however. Strangers of both genders occasionally will comment about my eyes. All of my siblings have the same freakishly light-colored, soul-piercing blue eyes.

Recently I was with a married couple who are friends of mine from church. She is Korean, and he speaks Korean fluently. Often she will have her husband translate for her. On this particular occasion she said something in Korean to me, after which her husband translated, "This is somewhat difficult for me to say, but my wife says you have very sexy eyes." I laughed.

Up until last week, I was never really surprised when someone complimented me on my eyes. It wasn't anything new. Then everything changed--in the blink of an eye. On Friday my professor took me and the other students in the lab out to lunch at Tom's Bar and Grill. Our waitress was a fiery, middle-aged woman with an unseasonably dark tan. She had a pretty face, a smoker's voice well within the range of an alto, and wore a black, low-cut tanktop. As she took our drink orders she affectionately addressed each of us as "Sweetie." When she came to me she stopped. Here's how the conversation went between me and the flirtatious waitress:

ME: I'll have water please.

FW: Oh my goodness! What beautiful blue eyes you have!

ME (slightly embarrassed): Why thank you.

VFW: Wow! Look at those long eyelashes!

ME (blushing violently): That's awful nice of you to say.

VFW: Certainly you've been told that before!

ME (desperately wishing to end the conversation): Well, I can't deny...

VVVFW: Oh my goodness I just want you to come over here right now and give me a nice long fluttery butterfly kiss!

Let me take this moment to say that I am rarely the object of flirtation. Or at least I rarely notice it when it does happen. A female friend of mine once told me that I wouldn't know if a girl was flirting with me if she "came up and pinched [me] in the butt." But this comment definitely registered as scandalous on my flirt-o-meter. In as threatening a tone as I could muster I said, "Don't hold your breath." To which she responded, winking, "Don't worry darling. I'll be back to get that butterfly kiss from you." I gulped.

After we finished our meal, I surveyed the restaurant to find the most direct path to the door--the most direct path that didn't include FW. Just as I got up from my chair, my back-stabbing professor yelled to the waitress, "You better act now if you want that butterfly kiss!" So much for my surreptitious escape. FW intercepted me about halfway to the door. "Ok, I'm ready," she said pointing to her cheek. I uttered several excuses, but none would satsify her. Resistance was futile. I put my face up to hers and blinked spastically. She cackled. I blushed. BSP laughed. We left the restaurant.

So that is the story of how FW and BSP conspired against me. Let's hope there's not a sequel.