"Excuse me," I said to the petite brunette who I think was busy helping another customer. "I've never bought a pair of sunglasses before, and I need help. Plus you're an attractive girl. Maybe you can tell me which pair makes me look the least hideous?"
It was an awkward salutation, but she pawned the other customers off on her co-worker and returned to help me. She immediately reached for a pair of Ray Bans. "You can't go wrong with standard aviators. They come with either gold or silver frames."
"Gold is a little douchey, no?" I said, pretending to admire myself in the little mirror.
"Go with the silver."
She walked me over to the counter and asked me to fill out a form for a warranty or mailing list or something. I don't remember why but she asked for my driver's license.
"California address, New Jersey driver's license, and you're buying sunglasses in Savannah? What's your deal, Evan?"
"I'm a jet-setter," I lied.
"Hence the aviators."
"A jet-setter." I repeated. "Not a jet pilot."
"So..." she began, inputing my information to her computer "Would you like to donate some money today to help sightless children in third world countries."
"No," I said. "Does that make me a bad person?"
"Not at all. It's cool. There's just thousands of kids in Africa who can't see now because of you."
"Marry me?" read more
