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.
Showing posts with label Hispanic. Show all posts
Showing posts with label Hispanic. Show all posts
Sunday, March 9, 2014
Wednesday, February 26, 2014
One Dollar
When I tell people I live near downtown Sarasota, they get all starry eyed as their minds fill up with thoughts of beautiful high-rise condos and amazing sunsets. Their fantasy melts like hot wax when I tell them my neighborhood is a few blocks to the north of downtown and it is composed of Hispanics, Blacks, and Whites, in that order. I am not rich. I don't have a partner, rich or poor.
As their thoughts of utopia wave bye-bye in their mind's rear view mirror, they come back to reality.
Because of Lithuanian descendants, I am dark haired with olive skin darkened even more by the sun. When I take Poppy out for his walks, it isn't unusual for me to be approached by people. He is a cutie-pie and we all know it! They say, "¿Cómo está usted?" or "¿Cómo está?" It has happened enough that now I reply with, "Fine. You?" It is when they walk up to me and speak a whole lot of Spanish that I have to respond with, "I don't speak Spanish."
It is an interesting place to live and when I visit my mother, and I do every week, who lives in money-is-no-object suburbia, it is a bit of a culture shock. There is no blending of the races because everyone is one race...at least that has been my experience so far. I walk my dog there, too, but usually not alone as my mother has two of her own. We do it together and our goal is getting to the dog park which is located around the block next to the kid's playground which is located next to the bocce ball area which is located next to the 2 pools and 1 Jacuzzi which are attached to the clubhouse.
What am I trying to say? I live in a poor neighborhood. I was in the Save-A-Lot a couple of nights ago for milk and being that it is the closest grocery store I opted for convenience. As I am walking to my car with a box bottom filled with a few heavy items, I see a man holding money in his hands counting it. I knew what was going to happen and instead of turning my head signaling that he should not approach me, I kept looking at his unshaven face as I rested the box on my trunk. As he walked over to me he said, "Ma'am. Do you have 79 cents? I am embarrassed to have to ask but I need...." I couldn't make out exactly what he needed it for but it didn't matter. Was it the truth anyway? I would never know. I opened my wallet and counted my change. "I only have 54 cents," I said. His face fell with disappointment and the bubble over his head read,"What am I going to do now?" He wasn't expecting me to finish my sentence with, "So here is one dollar." I took it out of my wallet and gave it to him. As he reached out his hand to take it, he was a bit stunned. Then thanked me and thanked me again and wished me a great night. He was smiling and all it took was one dollar. What he doesn't know is that he made me more happy than I made him. I felt it best to leave it at that.
As their thoughts of utopia wave bye-bye in their mind's rear view mirror, they come back to reality.
Because of Lithuanian descendants, I am dark haired with olive skin darkened even more by the sun. When I take Poppy out for his walks, it isn't unusual for me to be approached by people. He is a cutie-pie and we all know it! They say, "¿Cómo está usted?" or "¿Cómo está?" It has happened enough that now I reply with, "Fine. You?" It is when they walk up to me and speak a whole lot of Spanish that I have to respond with, "I don't speak Spanish."
It is an interesting place to live and when I visit my mother, and I do every week, who lives in money-is-no-object suburbia, it is a bit of a culture shock. There is no blending of the races because everyone is one race...at least that has been my experience so far. I walk my dog there, too, but usually not alone as my mother has two of her own. We do it together and our goal is getting to the dog park which is located around the block next to the kid's playground which is located next to the bocce ball area which is located next to the 2 pools and 1 Jacuzzi which are attached to the clubhouse.
What am I trying to say? I live in a poor neighborhood. I was in the Save-A-Lot a couple of nights ago for milk and being that it is the closest grocery store I opted for convenience. As I am walking to my car with a box bottom filled with a few heavy items, I see a man holding money in his hands counting it. I knew what was going to happen and instead of turning my head signaling that he should not approach me, I kept looking at his unshaven face as I rested the box on my trunk. As he walked over to me he said, "Ma'am. Do you have 79 cents? I am embarrassed to have to ask but I need...." I couldn't make out exactly what he needed it for but it didn't matter. Was it the truth anyway? I would never know. I opened my wallet and counted my change. "I only have 54 cents," I said. His face fell with disappointment and the bubble over his head read,"What am I going to do now?" He wasn't expecting me to finish my sentence with, "So here is one dollar." I took it out of my wallet and gave it to him. As he reached out his hand to take it, he was a bit stunned. Then thanked me and thanked me again and wished me a great night. He was smiling and all it took was one dollar. What he doesn't know is that he made me more happy than I made him. I felt it best to leave it at that.
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