Do I Know You?

I have this thing about me. This thing that sends out a message to strangers that tells them I want them to talk to me. That I am interested in what they are doing, or their opinion about what I am doing, or that I am interested in talking them at all.

Whenever this happens to me, I am reminded of one of my dad's childhood friends. Whenever a stranger would make chit-chat with him in line, he would turn to them and sincerely ask, "Do I know you?" The person usually would respond with a polite, "No."

"Then why are you talking to me?"

Now, that is a little harsh, but it's what I am thinking every time in my head. Just because I look like a nice young lady, it doesn't mean I am. I mean... I am, but they don't know that. And even though I know people are just being nice, and want to chat with someone, make one connection in their long day of errands, I don't care. Don't talk to me.