J looks over his shoulder as he is jogging away and says: You don't have to worry about being hit on.
I snort: Thanks for the compliment.
J, ignorning me: Well, unless the guy was crazy or blind...
In his defense, I'd probably have to agree that I wasn't looking very hot in my seafoam-hazelnut-white knitted cap paired with my black and red coat and my rainbow-hued Indian scarf, not to mention those horrid, baggy, dark blue sweats that I just can't seem to toss out.
Still, does a guy have to be so honest? :P