I'm Gonna Be One Less

Last week I went to a doctor's appointment, and since I'm under the cut off age of twenty-six  I was given some information about getting the Gardasil vaccine (and all of the awful things that could happen if you don't get it).  Before I left the office, I had to get some blood work done, and when I finally left I was distracted and didn't even think about what I was holding. I got on the elevator on the fifth floor and had to stop on the fourth to let on a very attractive, seemingly single guy my age with me.  I smiled and made eye contact (just like the dating experts say to do), and I did not even get a smile in return.  Instead, my advances were returned with a look of absolute disgust.  I silently went over all reasons that could have merited that response (I even considered size stickers and smelling like manure), and then I looked down to see the paper I was parading around for all to see.

Needless to say, my pool of potentials has one less.