The Strange Attack of the Fifty Foot Tall Mr. Chickenwings or How I Was Hit On While in Walmart

It was a lovely fall day. The leaves were gold, red, and brownish with a hint of taupe and green, and also the Dow Jones was up. Yea, stock market. While humming 'You shook me all night long' and chewing Bubbalicious gum, I was innocently minding my own fat woman business at Walmart. Yes, I went shopping at the Walmart SUPERCENTER where one can purchase SUPER food and SUPER junk from China while eying the Dunkin' Donuts conveniently located at the exit of the store. Who said capitalism was bad?

I had finished my shopping and had paid for my meager items. It was a slow shopping day and was headed out to the car when it happened. Yes, it. IT. IT. IT. (Like one of those nuclear disaster inspired monster movies that make radioactive, ginormous, purple polka-dotted spiders that like to nibble on hapless housewives. You know, IT!!!!!)

I feel obliged to mention that IT has happened before. When I was younger, skinnier, and my hair wasn't fifty percent gray. I can even (in my dotage) remember some of the best (by best, I really mean worst) lines. "Hey, baby, we should conserve body heat...together, I mean." (This cretin had just been swimming so I reckon he thought he was being original.) "So what kind of knives do you recommend for a single man?" (This while I was working in a knife store and I was sort of trapped there.) "Do you want to come see my...drawings?" (Hah. I bet he had to work hard to replace etchings with drawings.)

Yes, it refers to pick up lines. Do men memorize these things or am I that out of date? "Did it hurt when you fell out of the sky?" "Huh?" "You are an angel, after all." Hoped for response: "Tee-hee-hee, here's my number, and I'm off at 10 pm." Actual response: "Boy, did you ride on the short bus when you went to school?"

So as I've been married for 27 years, it happens less and less. (He who I am married to never used the angel line, which was a plus for him.) Anyway as I've become fatter it happens a whole lot less. Not that I'm complaining. My husband still hits on me. (And I mean in a good way.) But I don't normally expect it from strangers and when it happened at Walmart, I was taken aback. I was.

For one thing, it was an entirely new approach. For another thing, the guy hadn't been even looking at me. Usually you can tell if someone is going to let one stinker of a pick up line rip. He stares at you. Or stares at your boobs. Sometimes he's staring at some other part of your body. He might sidle up to you and make a tentative pass, veering off at the last moment like a skittish horse looking for just the right filly to hook up with. Then he'll come inching up later, as if building up his courage in case I go postal or maybe checking to see if I'm a bunnyboiler in disguise. It's pretty obvious. This was so out of the blue I didn't know how to react.

And may I mention that I would have never thought of Walmart as an ideal place to find your next hokey poky. "My, doesn't that beef tenderloin have a nice price, and may I say that your skin is luminescent in the fluorescent lights?" (That wasn't bad. I wish someone had said that to me.) Walmart doesn't even have a bar. It's got a Dunkin' Donuts which prompts all kinds of interesting lines. "Would you like to double dip your donut in my coffee, baby?" or even "Can I buy you a strawberry filled, double-glazed donut, sweet thing?" (Wink. Wink.) Or the perennial favorite: "Is that a donut in your pocket or are you just happy to see me?" (Might not work man to woman, but hey if any woman, or man for that matter, out there is inspired, you go right ahead and use it. I'd love to know what happens.)

So I had made my purchases. I had the bags in my hand. I was struggling to find my keys before I went outside, and was attempting to switch my shoulder bag to my other hand while digging in my cavernous purse. I was studiously ignoring Dunkin' Donuts at my right because it was calling to me in a siren like fashion, "Hey, you. Fat woman. Yes, you. Come to me. Eat of the donut. Yes, eat of the donut." (Haha. Refer to the blog about The Stupidest Man Ever. I do, in fact, eat of the donut.)

Then it happened.

There was a man in front of me who seemed to be leaving at the same time who abruptly turned to me, proffered a plastic clam shell container of something, and said, "You want to go eat chicken wings with me?" (The plastic clam shell was chicken wings, for those who weren't paying attention.)

When telling the story to some of my mommy friends, one said, "And you didn't ask the guy if they were spicy chicken wings or not, Caren?" which was the best return line I could have ever thought of, and bears mentioning because that would have been fucking hilarious. I don't think Mr. Chickenwings (thanks to another mommy friend for that moniker, btw) would have known what to do. (Ideally he would have arched an eyebrow and said leeringly, "Spicy, baby.")

So I feel compelled, as I often do, to make note of several things. This was a tall, big man about my age, so I didn't feel like it was completely inappropriate. But he just suddenly pounced on me, as if he was frantically determined. ("Hey, you, fat woman. You're fat, right? Then you must like chicken wings. How about it, sweetie?") Did I have 'desperate' written on my forehead? Did I look like a woman in need of a chicken wing fix? How does that look? Like a junkie in need of a tweak? Since I was standing next to Dunkin' Donuts, did I look like since I'd just been there, maybe I was, therefore, ready to fill up on his chicken wings. (Insert lewd comment here. Feel free to be creative.)

I would suggest to Mr. Chickenwings that perhaps he should be waiting outside of KFC for his next victim, oops, I mean target. Then he would know for certain that the woman in question likes chicken wings. Or at least she likes chicken. Perhaps he should go after them before they go in. Just a suggestion.

So what did I say to Mr. Chickenwings? Well, I think I gave him a look like I was dumbfounded, because, well, I was, and I said, "I don't think so," and left him for the next fat woman standing next to Dunkin' Donuts.

Go figure.