At lunch today, I saw something I’ve never seen before in my life.

Something I didn’t think actually existed.

Something I thought only existed in movies and television (and the dreams of teenage boys).

I saw…

An attractive, female police officer.

(What? Don’t look at me like that. Am I not allowed to notice pretty girls? This is America, right? Surely you all aren’t questioning my Constitutional right to notice pretty girls!)

What’s the big deal, you ask?

First of all, female cops in general are a rarity where I live. How rare are they? Well, they’re about as rare as acting trophies for Keanu Reeves and whistles from female admirers for Michael Moore.

In other words, they are pretty rare.

Secondly, the female police officers that do exist look like…

(Hmmm. How to put this delicately?)

…Danny Devito in drag.

Except they aren’t as tall, attractive or feminine as Danny Devito.

(Wow, and here I thought it was going to be difficult to delicately phrase it.)

This girl, on the other hand, was the polar opposite of Danny Devito in drag.

(Lots of luck getting that mental image out of your heads, by the way.)

She appeared to be in her mid-20s.

She was 5’9.

She had dark brown hair and brown eyes.

She looked exotic. Well, exotic to me anyway. She sat down at a table with what I assume was her parents and sister. Her mom was Mexican, her dad was white. Her sister looked just like her — “exotic.”

When she entered the restaurant, I was up from my table and walking in her direction.

What was I doing? Well, I can assure you I wasn’t about to rob the cashier, so just get that crazy notion out of your head right now! What do you mean I’m acting paranoid? You are!

Ahem.

Once I saw her walk in (and saw that she was a cop), I quickly tossed away the handgun I was holding for no particular reason. (You know how it is — salad buffets can be really dangerous.)

Caught off guard due to having never seen even a mildly attractive female officer up to that point, I almost couldn’t think of what to do as she walked towards me.

Do I ignore her and continue towards the cashier salad bar?

Do I amuse her with my clever wit?

(“Excuse me, officer. But the Krispey Kreme doughnut shop is down the street.”)

Do I commit a crime of some sort so that she has to arrest me and we get some one-on-one time as she drives me to the police station?

Do I pretend to be a police officer?

(“My name is Sergeant Riggs. I’m your new partner. Try not to fall in love with me.”)

I was sure she had endured each of these a million times before. So, I decided to be original. I did nothing. I did absolutely, positively nothing.

I didn’t give her even a passing glance. Later, when we were standing side by side at the buffet, I ignored her. When we were on opposite sides of the buffet facing each other, I pretended she wasn’t there.

Crazy?

Yeah, crazy like a fox.

She’s a police officer, right? An attractive one at that.

So, in her experience, there are only three types of men who ignore her: Those that are married, those that are gay, and those that are criminals.

She could rule out me being married due to the fact I wasn’t wearing a wedding ring and my finger showed no tan line.

She could rule out me being gay due to the fact I ooze heterosexual manliness.

So, all that leaves is the possibility I am a criminal.

If she’s a good cop, she’ll try to find out who I am. Maybe I just robbed a bank? There’s no way for her to know. She has to do her due diligence and find out.

And what will she find?

That I have a spotless criminal record.

This, my friends, will confuse her to no end.

“He wasn’t married, he wasn’t gay AND he wasn’t a criminal?? Why wouldn’t he look at me?!”

She’ll become obsessed with me. It won’t be her fault — she’s only human, after all. And the next thing I’ll know is I will have an attractive, female stalker who is also a police officer on my hands.

The upside?

Well, if I or any of my friends get a speeding ticket, I bet she could help us out.

Or if my neighbors get too loud, I could get her to arrest them and plant drugs on them or something.

And since she’d likely stake out my house each evening, I’d never have to worry about burglars breaking in during the middle of the night.

One thing for sure is she will be a definite upgrade from my last crazy stalker. I mean, having a girl who works at Subway be obsessed with you sounds good in theory, but after a while the extra pickles she puts on your sandwiches cease to be worth the aggravation that comes with trying to steal lockets of your hair.

Approximately 59% of this blog post is real. Lots of luck deciphering the real from fake, folks!