Meet Cute

Sometimes I"m not so smart. Like when I buy a pair of jeans I know are too long, and leave the store without having them hemmed.
And so it was that I found myself heading back to Diesel on Sturday in the pouring rain.
The guy behind the counter is cute. I've noticed him before, mostly noticed him noticing me.
He made small talk while measuring my cuff: he's from Argentina (Danger! South America! Danger!), he used to be a lawyer in his country (And now works at Diesel? Orange Alert! No goals or motivation!). But he was sweet and made pleasant conversation.
So imagine my surprise when I got home from Diesel to find that he had taken my phone number from the little sheet I had to fill out when I left my jeans, and had texted me his phone number.
Ballsy. But cute. Definitely a good "How we met" story.
So I called him last night. He was on the other line, but said he'd call me back.
An hour later, the text came (and what is it about South American men and text messaging? Pick up the phone, for fuck's sake!):
"Hi. Don't know why I took your number. Didn't want to bother you. But I have a boyfriend. But we can still hang out. You seem nice. But I don't want to be a bad person with you."

It's funny. When I was in Saks, the salesman told me that the cologne I was considering would definitely attract unavailable Latin men with mental problems.
Can't say he didn't warn me.