March 6, 2012

What Happens When You Ask Me "Who's Your Daddy"

I have a fellow co-worker with whom I trade conversational barbs with all the time.  I'm pretty liberal, it would seem.  He's an aging hippie, conspiracy sort, and he ribs me for looking much younger than my years.  (I'm 34, but I easily pass for someone much younger if I want to.)  I don't remember the specifics of the conversation we were having at the time.  But, what I do remember is this; it was close to quitting time, and the topic had something to do with current events from the mid-nineties.

In true fox news form, my cohort employs the tactic that if he's louder, then he's the winner.  Somewhere in the middle of him talking about whatever it was, he stops.  I'd made a face, meant as an expression of something along the lines of "Oh come on now.  Yeah, I remember that, and that's not how I remember it going down." but he took as an expression of confusion.  He asked me "Do you remember that?  Are you old enough?  Hang on a minute.  You can vote, right?".  While I'm packing up my purse, lunch bag, and other crap I need to take home, I chuckle and reply, "Yes, I can vote.  I've been legal for a good while now, you know.  It's not like you're old enough to be my dad or anything."  He laughs, nods his head and winks as a way to convey he's trying to be over-the-top misogynistic to get a laugh, and says "Ooooh yeah. Who's your daddy?". 

This is the part where I finish zipping up my purse, wink right back, stare him in the eyes, and purr "Oh come on baby.  If you're gonna ask me that, at least have the decency to pull my hair.". 

I have never heard more nervous laughter, or seen a blush bloom so quickly as I did just then.  Above the noise, I zip up my jacket, swagger out of the office, and allow a singsong "Goodnight sweetie.  See you tomorrow." and a cackle to linger in the air after me.

Any day now, I expect to be called to HR's office.  It's just a waiting game, I tell you.

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