I Am Not Your Boo

Wow, I have neglected this blog for nearly a month. Should I start by sending flowers, or do you think candy will melt its heart faster?  Speaking of melting hearts ....

I had one of my weirdest bus stop encounters yet this afternoon. Keep in mind that this comes on the heels of last week's fiasco, when an older gentleman asked me whether the Twins won and then watched me walk away, yelling, "You're lookin' good! I'm in love with you!" 

As I stood waiting, I was approached by a man in a hooded sweatshirt who was either slurring or just enunciating very poorly. He started the conversation like this:

HIM: "Hey, mommy."

ME: (not sure he was actually addressing me, as I am not a mommy.)

HIM: "Hey, boo."

ME: (so taken aback that I was incapable of uttering a response.)

HIM: "What's your name?"

ME: (reluctant to respond, hoping he will simply go away.)

HIM:  "Hold on, girl. Quit bein' so nervous! I ain't gonna do nothin'. I'm Mark."

ME: (finally telling him my name, because it's clear he will not simply go away.)

HIM: "You down here for the game, or what?"

ME: "Just waiting for my bus."

HIM: "You got nice dimples. (going in for the kill) How 'bout you call me later?"

ME:  "I don't think so."

HIM: "Now, just wait a minute, just think about this. You call me when you get home, tell me how your day was."

ME:  "I don't think so, sorry."

At this point, he wandered away, yet another man irresistibly and inexplicably attracted by my crazy magnet. But I was left with this thought:  If I did call him up and tell him about my day, he would probably actually listen. And, substance abuse problems aside, that would be really nice. In the same way it's nice to hear "You're lookin' good!" from inebriated strangers, but nice nonetheless.

I'm not saying I've reached the level of desperation where I would take any of these guys up on their offers.  But when it comes to the compliment? I'll take it.