The last time I was hit on was when I lived in Fresno. I was... Oh, 17 years old or so, and was with my friend Jackie at a pool hall. This little guy came up to me, and said, "Do you like to party?"

I was caught off-guard. I said, "What??" So he repeated, "Do you like to party?" I thought it was funny. So I laughed a little bit uneasily and said, "No.."

He persisted, "So.. You don't want to go to a party with me tonight?"

"Um... No. Thanks."

"Okay, well have a nice night then."

And then he was gone. The exchange was over just like that. Up until then, every time I'd ever been 'hit on' was while I was walking from class to my car at Fresno City College. Inevitably some guy would fall into step beside me and strike up awkward conversation. I can't even remember, looking back, where these conversations went as they were so brief and so "in passing," but I do know that my 'marital status' was always brought up. And then suddenly, after learning that I was engaged, the conversation would end and I'd be left to walk the rest of the way to my car alone, chuckling to myself.

Last night we were at a party by the lake (this is where most, if not all, parties in San Angelo occur for us) and Mark was off drinking beers and socializing while I sat alone (being the vivid social butterfly that I am) text messaging my friend, Ifer. Oh how I wish that he'd learn to not leave me by myself at parties. Are there any husbands in existence who don't do this to their wives? I would love to know.

One of the guys, Doug, noticed my alone-ness and called me over to sit near him and his wife. They were about 6 feet away at a picnic table. They were talking with a guy I'd never met before. I got up, still sending a text as I did so, and sat down on the bench next to the unrecognized guy, who quickly attempted to scoot over. I then realized I was rude in "assing him over". So I said, "Oh, no, you're okay."

He said, "Why? Because you've got a skinny butt?" I blinked several times. And then said, "Uh, no, honestly because I am really used to sharing my space."

Then Doug and his wife started quizzing me on why I was alone at a party. So I told them that I was a loner. And then the guy next to me goes, "Why? You're cute. And sexy. And if you're cute and sexy, all you have to do is ask."

I suddenly felt extremely grossed out. I looked at him with one eyebrow up and said, "Ask for WHAT?" It was then that I took a look at him. A probably 40something bachelor with both ears pierced, scruffy facial hair, and a beer belly.

He said, "Well, you know, whatever."

I waited for a good opportunity and then pointed out my "worse half". To which the 40-year-old-gross-o said, "Oh! Which one is he? Need to know these things, you know."

And then he took the opportunity to scold me for being married young. And proceeded to explain to me that the reason I was so quick to fall into the arms of a man and get married was because I probably had a bad childhood and no father figure.

Which irritated me beyond all reason. So I said, "Actually, my husband and I dated for over four years before we got married. We didn't 'rush into' anything. And now we've been married for over three and a half years."

He piped down for a bit, and then Amaris walked by, playing with bubble wands. And he said, "I have not heard that kid talk the whole time I've been here." Clearly he didn't realize he was sitting next to and had just finished hitting on and then scolding "that kid's" mother. In fact I'm pretty sure he didn't realize I was a parent at all. So I said, "Oh, she talks nonstop." And then I called her over, and she turned and saw me there and said with the world's biggest and brightest smile, "HI MOMMY!"

I've never been so proud in my life.

Beer belly scooted away to allow space for Amaris to sit next to me on the bench.

I stayed there a while and then got up. Later on, beer belly lit up a cherry scented cigar and I was further disgusted by him and his existence.

There is a certain dignity in how you choose to hit on someone, and how you react to being shot down. He didn't have an ounce of respectability. Just because you're bummed that you're 40something and single, and I am a happily married girl HALF your age... Doesn't mean you ought to try and make me miserable, too. Sometimes it really is that simple. I found it, you didn't. I hate to be mean, but at least butt out when you're given the proper cues to do so. And unless you know me, or know anything about me, you ought to not open your big ugly trap and tell me about my issues and mistakes and weaknesses. That's just silly.