And I really didn't like the guy, but..

I get a lovely boost from being wanted. I really do, even if it's by loserly or pathetic guys. If they want me, I smile.

Call it a very small, selfish ego. I have discovered, shamedly, that if I don't feel wanted, admired, or noticed on a rather regular basis, I question my attractiveness. If I'm home for days straight and have no reason to go out to the mall and see the men do double-takes as I walk by, I begin to feel ugly. If I work for more than a week without a table of guys winking or leaving their phone numbers on the checks, I tell myself that men never really do like girls with small chests, after all.

I've been home a lot and I haven't really taken much time to make myself feel cute lately. So, of course, as usual, I had begun to sink back into my "you're not really that cute" attitude, which is really the most common.

I was at work and I was serving these three guys, all in their early twenties. One of them was very muscular and blonde and pretty, and he had a hint of a cool accent and I thought he was probably Russian. Whatever he was, I know I smiled at him more than the other two, even while I was making the conscious effort not to.

Because of Russian, it took me awhile to notice the asian guy sitting next to him, but when I did, I started a bit. It looked like...no, it probably wasn't...oh but, it looked like...no, maybe not...but...I dove headfirst.

"Excuse me, is your name Mark?" I asked him. He shook his head,

"No, its Steve, but why?" He asked.

"Oh, well, I have this number-its the only one I've kept-from this guy named Steve." I began, but I was cut off by the other guys.

"He made us come here just to see you! That's why we're here!" they shouted. I smiled, so it was him.

"you kept my number?" he asked. I suddenly panicked-i shouldn't have said that!

"Um, yeah I did-" I stumbled,

"Well why didn't you call me!?"

"I've got a policy of not calling guys that leave their number for me." I said, trying to get some grounding. He shook his head,

"but you kept it. That has to mean something." He said eagerly, and I couldn't think of anything to say. "you should call." he insisted.

"I-I don't know." I said, "I just don't do that." then I rushed off to get their refills.

He followed me up to the counter.

"No, really, when are we going for coffee?" he said. I shrugged.

"please don't expect anything. I'm very shy." I begged. The girl behind me choked a laugh. I am the least shy person I know. He smiled.

"well why did you keep my number?" he asked. I got flustered.

"you were-nice. Every guy who leaves his number is so trashy."

"well, i'm a little trashy." he joked. I laughed and shook my head, and he quickly added "nah, just kidding. Really, when?"

I hurried off again, "I don't know."

As soon as he'd left, rewriting his number and "don't be shy-call!" on the check, I shook myself. I knew exactly why I kept the number; we had both worked at the same radio station and I thought he could maybe help me get a job back there. But I had been thrown when I saw he was still interested, and missed my chance for something clever and cool to end the interest. I would never call him.

But the rest of the day I smiled. I had been wanted, and that was just the little revival my ego needed.

A-ha, I'm still pretty!