Not a Hotty

Apparently I am attractive to Hispanic men or I could chalk it up to percentages because of my neighborhood.

One tried to make conversation with me from his car window as I was walking Poppy.  He had waved me on and then after Poppy and I left the curb he caught me mid-cross with compliments.  We went through the whole "I don't speak Spanish" routine as I dragged Poppy along.  "It is NOT the time to smell things, Popparooni!" my inner dialogue was screaming.  When the dog and I were finally a comfortable distance away the drive said while sticking his head out the car window, "You are beautiful."  It wasn't said with menace or vulgarity.  He was kind of polite, actually.

Another pulled up to the gas pump next to mine early one morning before work.  He smiled at me over his car as I got out of mine, so I smiled back.  "Good morning," he said.  "Good morning," I replied.  With my credit card button punching question answering completed, I lifted the nozzle, chose the lowest grade, and inserted the nozzle in the tank of the car.  I stared at the numbers flying by in the dollar section and compared those to the numbers ambling along in the gallon section.  I felt a pulling in my psyche so I looked over and sure enough this guy was smiling at me.  I smiled back.

Done pumping the gas I ripped my receipt from the machine and started back around my car.  He looked me over and said, "You look nice," in a benign and easy-going way.  "Thank you," I said as I kept walking.  I was starting to feel a little closed in and scrutinized.  Wait a minute here.  I'm wearing jeans shorts and a t-shirt.  I look nice?

"You going to work?" he asked still smiling while holding his cell phone in one hand and the gas nozzle with the other while leaning over the top of his car.
"What?" I asked.      
"Are you going to work?" he asked again.
"Yes," I replied as I lowered myself into the driver's seat.

He said something else but I have no clue what it was because I was closing the car door.  As I drove away a niggle that was in the back of my head came to the forefront.  Did he take my picture with his cell?

Both men were very polite and I didn't feel dirty for having spoken to them.  I didn't feel threatened, either. As a woman, I am always aware of my surroundings.  From Jr. High on it has been drilled into my head to look around, appear confident, and the old stand-by of grab, twist, and pull.  I suppose I have been thinking that at my age and nearing being on the other side of menopause I would have become invisible.  Maybe not.  At least not for these two men.