Tuesday, November 11, 2008

Get Out Of My Car/ Get Into My Pants

I’d love to know what it is I’m casting out into the universe that makes me so g’damned appealing to cab drivers. Really. Just in these last odd weeks, I’ve received a marriage proposal, been offered a free ride in exchange for my phone number, and been told “you look real hot tonight, Mama.”



These pick-up artists are pretty much my sole admirers in the L-U-V department these days, aside from the pockmarked darling who works the hot food counter at my deli, and the middle-aged shwarma cart dudes who call me “sweetie,” and hook me up with free falafel from time to time.

My roommate asks if I’m doing anything that might lead the cabbies on. Am I wearing or saying anything that suggests I’m open to some backseat action (meter off, obvs)? Lately my wardrobe choices teeter on demure and unsexed. I’m all jeans and cardigans and penny loafers these days. Very phoned in.

And I’m not one to get all taxicab confessional. Actually, I don’t exchange any more words than I have to with drivers. It’s not that I’m some elitist dick, I just loathe small talk. It’s so forced. If I’m not willing to discuss how cuh-razy the weather’s been, I sure as hell am not going to humor sexy murmurs. Please, good sir, just drive the fucking car across the BQE already. Don’t make some mildly drunk chick named me feel threatened cos you’re feeling frisky. Does this usually work? Do your female charges ever succumb to your advances? I’m gonna guess no. First of all, if you’re doing your job adequately, we can only see the back of your head. Like, what if you turn around and you’re not even cute? Deal breaker.

I will admit I find the attention mildly flattering. Sometimes it feels like if it weren’t for these hacks being so hot for my snatch, no one else would be. So, yeah, there’s that. Maybe I’ll find a way to transfer my mojo from the backseat of the cab into the bars or the church basements or the Laundromats or the wherever-place-people-go-to-meet-other-people-on-a-romantical-level. That way, when I turn the cabbie down with the old “I have a boyfriend” lie, it would be true.

–Megan Metzger

2 comments:

Robin Campbell said...

I like your writing!
I know exactly what you mean about 'come ons' like that first being uncomfortable, and at the same time flattering, this happens to me at my job in a restaurant, Spanish men.
In any case, you must be lighting up pretty bright, they can see how awesome you are!

Anonymous said...

yo that really is some solid shit, cabbies dig you and so do i.