How I accidentally sexually harassed the FedEx man

Sometimes when I’m having a really good day (ex.: when I find $5 on the ground or see a squirrel chasing a bunny in a circle) I forget that I’m socially awkward and have trouble forming sentences. It’s times like these when I do things like accidentally sexually harass the FedEx man.

Like, today at work. I was high on that feeling you get from fixing a seemingly impossible technical problem. Fine. I was high on that feeling you get from asking the IT guy to fix a seemingly impossible technical problem. Potato, potato.

It was at that moment of carefree delight and wiggly inhibitions that FedEx man strolled into my life (or, office) with a dolly full of parcels and the uncanny ability to lure out my surprisingly sexual subconscious.

“Man,” I said, tipsy on happy and thinking that I should make an effort to connect with this fellow human being over some relatable aspect of his chosen profession. “I never get packages in the mail. I want some! I want some!”

Sure, it was a dorky thing to say. Dorky I’m okay with. But, what I didn’t realize until it had passed from my lips, ahem, twice…was that it sounded very much like I was propositioning FedEx man for a night of sexual bliss.

I think he thought this, too.

“Did you just say you want some?” asked FedEx man in a tone I’d describe as somewhere in-between “you’re absolutely retarded” and “are you subtly trying to get in my stylin’ FedEx shorts?” (Hint: no)

“Yeah…” I said trying really hard to be nonchalant because it became clear to me seconds after the first “some” that I was actually being a giant whore. I desperately searched for words to undo this. Instead, I got:

“You know, I would love to get a package…

…IN THE MAIL.”

I don’t remember what he said after this. I don’t remember what he said after I followed that first gem of a sentence with the words: “ I would love to get a package” and then tried to make it sound less like I was talking about his genitalia by tacking on “in the mail.”

Unfortunately I do remember the look in his eyes. It was a look that said: “Honey, I would love to give you a package,” and it was gross. It apparently doesn’t take much wit or finesse to sweep FedEx man off his feet. Actually, it apparently takes the opposite of that.

Tomorrow I might see how selective UPS guy is—whether or not he likes his girls good and dumb and full of hackneyed sexual metaphors. Hopefully yes because form-fitting chocolate brown shorts are totally my kryptonite. Sorry FedEx man, I’m flattered and all. I just prefer my (delivery) men in calming earth tones.