DC men are all sorts of classy

Time: just past 9:30 this morning

Location: ConnAve/M St. intersection (Burberry side)

Characters: 30-something suit, myself
Outfit: this and these (yes, again)

In tow: everyone's favorite Halloween candy carrier (see below)

"Excuse me, you aren't the girl who writes that style blog, are you?"

(turning down - not off, but down - "The Power of Love" on my iPod)

"Yeah, that's me," I replied, trying hard not to sound too excited at being recognized.

"Wow, my girlfriend _______ is like, obsessed with...what is it called, 'A Woman's Job Isn't Serious' or 'An Excuse for a Job...'"

"'A Serious Job is No Excuse.'''

"That's it, yeah, she loves it. Totally loves it."

(taking off my headphones)

"Thank you, that really means a..."

"I have to admit, I sometimes read it, too. You know, at work and stuff. And when _______ isn't home or when she's watching one of those stupid Hugh Grant movies or when she's pretending to work out at the gym, emphasis on 'pretending,' if you know what I mean. (scanning me up and down) She certainly doesn't have the, uh...the discipline you have when it comes to exercise and staying toned."

"Uh-huh, okay, well, thank..."

"And it shows, too. You look good. Reeeally good."

(more no-so-subtle body scans)

"Would you mind if I took a piece of your candy, Joanna?" he asked, playfully nudging my shoulder with his own.

"Sure, go ahead," I said, not bothering to correct the mispronunciation and hoping both the gesture and the disinterested tone in which I spoke would end our growing-more-awkward-by-the-second conversation, "just don't take the Skittles, I only have a few of those."

"Hot and she likes to give orders. I like that combo. How about (waving the fun-size Twix he'd liberated three inches from my face) instead of this candy, you give me your phone number?"

"I'm not really interested, thanks."

"Oh come on, I was kidding," he said, his voice taking on a markedly less friendly pitch as I inched farther away, my eyes laser-focused on the 11-10-9... countdown to my right.

"You're not gonna blog about this, are you? I mean, I was just kidding around. I have a girlfriend, it's not like I was really serious."

(light turns green)

"Enjoy the Twix," I called out to him over my shoulder, "and be sure to check out the blog this afternoon -- what did you say your name was again? Brad?"

*on an unrelated but equally alarming note, I switched from 'Russian Navy' back to 'Midnight in Moscow' this weekend after I, too, discovered the blue had left a wicked stain on my nails.