Believe me, if I wanted a salad...

A couple of quick points before I get to the story:

I feel very awkward when someone repeatedly tells me I am beautiful. (And I mean VERY awkward. Tell me once each time you see me and we're good. Then drop it.) Actually, it's the same with any compliment. If you must tell me more than once, keep it to once each time we see each other. Not once every five minutes.

I also feel awkward when someone (ahem. a boy I'm on a date with, maybe) invites me to order a salad, and then invites me to exercise with him the following Sunday afternoon.

Put two and two together, and this is what I hear, in all of my self-conscious splendor:

"You're so beautiful. Really. Very beautiful. I don't understand why you don't already have a boyfriend. A beautiful woman like you. But really... you could go without all those carbs. Eat this lettuce instead. And a good hour-long run wouldn't hurt, either. I promise it will be fun. While we're on the subject of fun, can I come up to your apartment?"

Hmmm, let me think about that for a second. Um, no. You can't come up to my apartment. Ever.

But it was a good try. Kind of. Next time try to go without all of the hints at dieting. Otherwise I'll develop a serious complex and then we won't be friends anymore. Because frankly, I might not be a supermodel, but I respect myself enough to not put up with crap like this, should you decide to continue in this fashion. The outcome, at this point, entirely depends on you.

Man, I wish I could talk to people like this in person!!