Men Keep Hitting on Me

I'm street level now, baby — and I'm open for business.

In a world of J Lo “50” and Sally O’Malley “50,” I’m definitely more Sally. But ever since moving into my new place, men keep hitting on me.

The first guy delivered a fridge from Home Depot. For some reason it didn't come with in-home delivery (because it’s really easy for a person to move a refrigerator from the curb into a house all by themselves), so I gave him $100 to bring it inside. His name was Hector and he was young, maybe mid-twenties.

Hector getting ready to deliver the goods

Not only did Hector bring my fridge inside, but he unboxed it and stayed for about an hour. I kept saying, “I got it from here,” but Hector wouldn’t leave. He placed it where it needed to go, plugged it in, and even peeled off that little protective layer on the outside. When he finally finished and was on his way out the door, he stopped and said, “By the way, I’m a photographer. If you ever want your photo taken, let me know.” He then waited for me to scan a QR code on his phone so I could follow him on social.

Hector’s Instagram was filled with pictures of sleek sports cars, sexy women, and sexy women in leather pants lounging on sleek sports cars. I wondered what about my Target sweatpants and Crocs made him think I was looking for glamour shots, but I told him I’d call.

Proud member of the Crocs Club™

Everyone in LA is a hustler so I thought Hector was just hustling for business, but my friend Nicole said he was hitting on me. “That’s how they do it,” she said. “He was waiting for you to pick up on his cues.” Nicole is newly single after going through a divorce so she knows.