You’re a 7…

One of my ex-boyfriend’s asked me one day, “What number do you think I am?” (Hmmm, should I go down this road?) “What do you mean babe?” (I knew EXACTLY what he was asking). “Ya know – number, what do you think I am. This gal at work said I’m a 7.” Before I knew it I just blurted out, “Yeah – that’s about right.” Oh Lord, I knew he was going to protest this one.

BF: What!

Me: Yeah – that’s about right…Well, what did you think you were?

BF: …9

(oooohhh Lord! Please help this guy)

What followed was a lengthy discussion about peoples numbers. I told him there were many things you had to factor in. How you looked for your age group? What kind of person you are? How do you present yourself? Personally I don’t care how good looking you are – if you’re an ass, you’ll never be a 10. Also, to me, it’s kind of like the “Richter Scale,” starting at about 8. The higher you get, the stronger the magnitude. Anything above an 8 turns heads wherever they go. And you rarely see a 9 or 10 in the wild.

Then it got me thinking about his number again – a 7. He’s not really a 7. If I thought about it he was more of 5! Sure he was cute, a cross between Morrissey & Roger Federer, but he was a bit of  “douche.” I couldn’t bring him out in public much because you never knew what would come out of his mouth. Who he would offend or who HE’d be offended by. You know the guy. The guy that knows better than everyone & would tell you every 5 min. how awesome he was. He did have “mad skills,” in other areas but that will only get you so far before the novelty wears off. And I knew, for sure, he wasn’t the one. Needless to say, I broke it off a short time after this conversation.

I’ve been out with men far less attractive but treated everyone they met with respect and kindness, which makes them a 10 in my eyes. That & they need to “smell” right to me, but my bloodhound nose is for another time.

Back to our conversation.

BF: Really, you think a 7?

Me: Yeah – sure…

BF: What about you? What’s your number?

Me: (long pause) …27  😉





About somebodyslippedmeamickey

“Somebody Slipped Me A Mickey™…and I woke up middle-aged,” is about a 40-something Gen X’er who woke-up one day & couldn’t find her husband or children (probably because she forgot to have them), where she came from & where the hell she’s going. Her name may or may not be Kate & she may or may not live in the Pacific Northwest. She, for-sure is middle-aged & awesome! View all posts by somebodyslippedmeamickey

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