I grabbed a scrunchie (yes, a scrunchie – I’m cool like that) and threw my mess of curls up on top of my head as I shuffled to the door.
Wondering who in their right mind would be ringing my doorbell at this hour.
Convinced it was some drunk who had the wrong house.
Until the roommate said “I think it’s a firefighter”, and my heart stopped.
We all know how I feel about firefighters, right?
It was in that moment that I realized what I looked like. And knew I didn’t even kind of have time to do anything about it.
So, I opened the door.
Late last night.
In Capri sweats and a cut too low tank top with no bra underneath.
Wearing not an ounce of makeup and with my hair fighting desperately to escape the 1980’s throwback I had tied it up with.
I was a hot mess.
Minus the hot part.
In my defense, I had spent the better part of my evening spackling my kitchen, but… there was nothing I could do about that now.
I opened the door.
And discovered on the other side the hottest firefighter I have ever seen in my entire life.
(Courtesy of Google Images)
(Note: This was not THE firefighter from last night, but... I'm pretty sure there is nothing hotter than a firefighter holding a baby)
I froze.
Either I had passed out without realizing it (and was about to have the best hormone-induced sex dream of my life [because yes, I’m pretty sure the estrogen patches have put me in heat]) or someone had sent me a stripper.
Those were the only two options.
Because there was just no way a firefighter this good looking had shown up on my doorstep out of the blue in the middle of the night.
I’m telling you; this was the best looking man I have ever seen in real life.
Ever.
At least 6’2”, great eyes, built, tan, and with a perfect smile.
Swoon!
I stood there dumbfounded. Unable to speak. Incapable of interacting.
Simply staring at the Adonis who had been delivered to my front door.
He started to say something about CO detectors and alarms in the garage. I’m not really sure. It was all pretty much over my head.
I was too focused on his smile.
So I invited him in.
He declined, which I’m sure must have had something to do with the fact that I looked like this:
(Yes, those are my “I’m working on the house” clothes. I especially like how the no-bra look was accentuated by my THO. Classy-Class. Also, my room is not usually that messy. You can tell by the heating pad on the bed though, that when I haven’t been demolishing my kitchen I’ve been nursing some pretty serious endo pain – another side effect of those estrogen patches that's not quite as much fun as the increased libido. Needless to say, tidying up hasn't really been a priority.)
And then he left. Just like that. After talking to me for only a few minutes, and probably asserting that I was an undersexed train wreck of a woman who wasn’t hearing a word he was saying because I was too busy staring him down.
He would have asserted correctly.
I shut the door and roommate and I both looked at each other at the same time and squealed.
I was just telling her how excited I was that she had been there (because there was no way anyone would have believed how perfect this man was if she hadn’t been) when something dawned on me.
There we were, standing side by side in my living room, both in less than appealing nightwear.
Two women both likely passed the age when they would normally be living with roommates.
“He totally thinks we’re lesbians.” I blurted out.
WAH WAH WAH
And thus, my firefighter fantasy was crushed, because not only did he not decide he was madly in love with me and ask for my number – he probably didn’t even think I'd be interested in him to begin with.
Although, one could argue that a man like that could turn any lesbian straight!
My question now is; do firefighters have the same schedule from week to week, or do they consistently rotate?
Because if their schedules stay more or less the same, I’m thinking next Tuesday night I might have to have a bit of an “emergency”.
An emergency whilst completely showered, shaved, and wearing sexy nightwear rather than housework clothes this time.
The girls and I were talking, and it may just be appropriate to steal a scene from Friends and have a ritualistic burning of past men. The kind where a hot firefighter shows up to put out the flames, and winds up falling for me.
I definitely have a few sentimental items I could contribute to the blaze.
Because between hot firefighter and church boy, one thing is for sure.
This single girl is finally moving on!
