I don't want your man

Ladies, I need you to do me a favor. You've got to dial down the hate.

It never fails. A young couple, usually teenagers or not far from it, will stop in front of my spinning platform and while the guy asks questions (regardless of whether or not he's trying to look down my shirt) his girl is busy trying to poison me with haterade.

Honey, first of all I've got a man. He's way hotter than yours and actually pulls his pants all the way up when he gets dressed. Second of all, don't hate me because I'm beautiful. (Sorry, I've always wanted to say that!) No really, second of all, it's not my fault that your man is a dog who can't keep his eyes where they belong: on you.

The auto show is full of eye candy for men. Between the cars and the models some of them truly do not know what to do with themselves. I literally had a 12-year-old ask for my number once. (Seriously, I asked him how old he was. That's another entry for another day.) The crazy thing is that most of the product specialists, Fiat brands aside, are dressed pretty conservatively nowadays in business suits and knee-length skirts, but I can assure you that the girls who are still working in tight little dresses are giving up nothing more than a coquettish smile.

So ladies, please remember it is not my fault that your man approached me and started a conversation. In fact, it is my job to talk with him about the cars and be friendly, as long as he isn't a jackass. If you don't want to see it, don't come to the auto show. Instead, perhaps your time might be better spent working on your self esteem issues or finding a more gentlemanly man friend.

I promise, I don't want your man.