“She’s about the same height as my ex-wife,” said the Man Behind Me, while I stood in line at the local convenience store. I had a feeling he was talking about me, since I was the only female in the store, but was afraid to look. He was standing really close to me, his energy field interrupting mine and his words were laced with alcohol.
His buddy stood beside me waiting to pay for a 24-pack of beer. It was 1:00 in the afternoon, I guess a good a time as any to down a few Buds. I could feel both of their blatant up-down check-out burning along my body. I held back a shudder. For some reason, I was instantly repulsed.
Man Behind Me repeated, a little louder – hoping he could engage me, I imagine, and that I would pay closer attention if he raised his voice without directly addressing me, “She’s about the same height as my ex-wife.” I intuitively felt the head nod in my direction.
Friend sloshed out, “Yeah. But she’s much prettier.” He said it with a strong enough vocal nudge and nod of his head in my direction that I automatically turned to him with a weak smile.
Man Behind Me said, encouraged by my acknowledgment of Friend, “Yes! You are much prettier.”
I nodded thanks to both drunken admirers, grabbed my change and promptly left the building.
Apparently my lack of interaction was an enticement to Man Behind Me, even though that was the farthest thing from my mind – so far, that it wasn’t even there. Man Behind Me opted to not wait for his buddy and followed me out the door like a befuddled puppy dog. I was startled to look up from the driver’s seat and see him approaching my car. He stood back far enough from the door to imply I was safe and motioned for me to roll down the window.
Reluctantly, I did so. About two inches. Enough to hear him. Not enough for him to get his hands inside.
“You really are pretty,” he said. “Much more so than my ex-wife.”
“Thank you,” I said, feeling awkward.
“And you look really familiar to me,” he said.
I resisted the urge to roll my eyes.
“What is your name?”
I panicked. Truly I did. Do I give him my real name? What could be the worse thing to happen if I did give him my real name? Am I being an absolute bitch here?
I hadn’t answered any of those questions, yet after a significant and noticeably uncomfortable pause, I eeked out, “Angie…”
“You just look so familiar. What high school did you go to and what class?” He asked hopefully. When I told him, he started blurting names at me.
“Nope. I don’t recognize any of those names. Sorry.” I smiled lamely. Friend had come out and motioned for Man Behind Me to follow. Friend smiled at me in a besotted way and I cringed.
“Okay. Well…” Man Behind Me hesitated. “Well, thanks. You really are a pretty lady.”
I smiled softly and nodded a thanks as I moved to close the window.
In one last ditch effort to woo me, Man Behind Me blurted, “You wanna come drink beer with us?”
Now do women really do that? Do they pick up men at the local 7-11, perfect strangers, and toddle off to said men’s homes for a drink? DO THEY?!
I think my jaw dropped at the absurdity. I felt my snootiness come out… that horribly ugly side of me that says things like who the fuck do you think you are to ask someone like ME to drink with someone like YOU?! Not at all humane and I think an absolute fear response, but there I was in bitch mode all the same.
I reeled her in momentarily and squeaked out, “I don’t drink,” and sealed the deal by securely closing the window and pulling out while he stood there staring at me like some rejected puppy dog. I actually shuddered as I pulled out of the parking lot and felt my stomach churn.
I recently have put out to the universe that I am open to creating an easeful, healthy, co-creative relationship. One which brings out the best in us both. One that is full of laughter.
And what has been showing up are obviously drunken and drooling men, who have forgotten the definition of “personal hygeine.” This particular instance, by the way, is NOT the first of such encounters. These men are most likely men I wouldn’t like on a good, clear, sober day, let alone when they are teeteringly, stupidly drunk.
And then I wondered… could I look at this situation and find the nugget of truth for me? Could it be that I brought out in this man a tenderness that he was so longing to express? Could it be that I touched his heart just by simply standing there and he wanted to reach out to me? Could it be that there was something about me that called to him as a woman would call to a man? Could it be that, if I chose to look past the filthy exterior and the obvious, unhealthy addictions that I would see a man, a male human being, who, like me, was only longing to connect with another human being? Could it be that in that moment, my presence, my attention, my smile was all he needed? Could it have been an opportunity to practice receiving love? Could it be that the man that is truly brave enough and strong enough to stand beside a woman like me – to face a woman like me, to stand unwavering before the power of who I am – is coming toward me quietly? Could it be that this man today was showing me that there will be a man, soon, who will recognize me and call me out for real and it will be in that moment that I will need to choose to show my true colors?
Oh. My. God.
Could it be?