A Good Man Is Hard To Find...

Dear Mysterious Shop Man,

Thank you for opening the door for me, even though we were entering Fry's Marketplace which meant the doors already open for you.  Still, you had to stand in front of the sensors until I walked past.  That shit is awkward, nevertheless classy, and made me feel like a real lady.  I appreciated it...even though it made me speed up my pace so your idleness wouldn't alarm the greeter. 

Dear Mister Pita Greek Man,

Thank you for talking shit and scowling disapprovingly at my male company for not buying my dinner.  Even though I explained to you that we were just friends and he was kind enough to drive me there despite the fact it was fifteen minutes out of his way to pick me up, your retort of, "It doesn't matter darling, for you I'd always buy your dinner.  You should always be taken care of!" made me smile.  It also amused me that you waited to call his number till my food was done, and then ambushed him with three plates and a basket of pita to balance all the way back to the table with two hands.  While your curtness did not charm said company (and said company was unjustly misunderstood), your sweetness was not lost on me.  Your fierceness made me feel precious...and also scour the internet for deals on international flights to Greece.

Dear Random Friend-of-a-Friend I'll Never Meet Again,

Thank you for telling me I have a beautiful smile, even though you interrupted me half-way through a sentence in order to do so.  While I normally would have dismissed such flattery as ill-timed cheesiness, your need for immediacy reminded me that some things need to be said candidly in order to retain sincerity.  Your elderly age might also have had something to do with the degree of adorableness I attached to your sentiment, regardless, I welcome such interruptions in life.  It made me feel pretty.

Dear Check-Out Man Hovering Over The Self-Service Center,

Thank you for abandoning your station to walk to counter U-2 to affectionately remind me to key in my alternate ID before paying for my groceries so I'd save on every cent due to me.  While I had every intention of doing this as soon as I finished scanning my items so I could use the $5.00 I saved to purchase a venti coffee, I appreciated the fact that you did not say this with disdain or carelessness as I have come to expect with the other check-out kid who doesn't say anything at all, but whose eyeliner clearly highlights the excruciating annoyance he finds in my presence.  While I suspect your sympathies were tipped off by the disheveled demeanor of a college kid about to camp-out in their kitchen for two days to write a research paper, your concern and attention to detail made me feel valued and seen (despite the fact I was hiding behind large, dark glasses to remain unseen).

Reflecting on your quiet acts of courtesy conducted out of selflessness—sometimes requiring you look like a fool, or a jerk, unsociable, or a creeper—makes me feel real bad about the crappy company we tend to lump you in.  Like the asshole in the '96 pickup that slows down to stare at me all the way through the intersection.  He's just nasty.  But sometimes...sometimes, we women don't pay close enough attention, and for that I'm sorry.  I would like to formally thank you for your efforts, knowing full-well they could be misunderstood and used against you.

You're sexy beasts.

Sincerely,
Abbie