practicing centeredness

I think I saw that guy I've been talking about at the restaurant last night. I was sitting on the side of the bar, and there was a really pretty girl sitting on the far side of the central well. I was looking at her, wondering what she had to do to make her hair look so nice, and glanced over at a guy sitting next to her. At first I didn't really notice him, I was more thinking about how easy guys have it, and how little they have to do to be considered 'nice looking'.  I was sort of comparing her hair and his hair, wondering if he had any idea how much work she probably has to do to look like that, and suddenly I noticed, "hey, isn't that motorcycle boy?"

I instantly felt extremely self-conscious - I hadn't showered in days, and had just been for a really long walk and was still wearing my slightly grungy old shorts and my rattiest pair of tennis shoes.  My hair was still somehow looking halfway decent, but I was afraid to expose the bottom half of me, being so fashion-impaired in that highly fashion-conscious place.

In fact, this particular place is PARTICULARLY annoying, because the women who work there, and the women patrons, all (or most) seem to practice that hyper-affectedly 'casual' look that is so NOT casual at ALL.

The amount of time and energy you have to spend to get that perfectly 'effortless' look is PHENOMENAL.  And it may be fairly straightforward once you work out a routine, but there is no possible WAY that the women can look THAT MUCH BETTER than their male counterparts in the same age range without a SIGNIFICANT amount of effort.

After that, needless to say, I dashed home and changed into my jeans and black shoes, which, though ratty and old and dirty too, have it ALL over my previous attire for style points.  (Yikes, I can't even believe I'm saying or thinking all this.  The harsh reality of 'feminism' in this here so-called modern, 'progressive' [yeah, *right*] world.)

So then I went out again to do some quick grocery shopping at Freddie's, and found myself getting a *lot* of attention.

What is it?  What's the formula?  It seems like on the days I don't give a shit, *that's* when I get the most attention - or, I should say, positive attention (and sometimes unwanted attention) from men, and negative attention from women who seem to be irritated that I am 'successful' at attracting male attention (yargh) in spite of my obviously minimal efforts. (And then there are the women who *aren't* bothered, thank god. Because otherwise the world just becomes too crazy to bear. You feel like you're competing with absolutely EVERYBODY in some way or other, and it's exhausting.)

There was one guy (I must be really ready to fall in love again :-) who I saw as I was passing the aisle he was standing in, I kind of glanced over as I was passing by with my cart, and he looked at me, this kind of inquiring look?  And I smiled, not expecting to see anybody there, especially not this really good-looking young guy looking straight at me.

After my experience with motorcycle boy, I was feeling a little shy, not wanting to be led down the garden path again.  I mean, I realize there are men who are attracted to older women, and I'm definitely (as the last few weeks show) occasionally attracted to significantly younger men.

But I was nervous about it last night - when I got to the checkout place, I was almost done and I glanced around and saw red-shirt boy right behind me, and he again looked at me, again, questioningly.  He looked at me several times, and it was all I could do not to wiggle in glee!  Why do I feel like I'm still in high school?  It feels almost as if this few years of non-involvement with men has given me a new lease on life, almost as if I've hit the reset button and gone back in time (knock on wood!) and am getting a 'second chance' to do things 'right' (for a given definition of 'right', namely, *my* definition :-).

In fact, when I went to the clinic the other day (thought I'd gotten a piece of Cracker Jack in my lung, which was a whole 'NOTHER story which I may tell at some point - major panic, walked to the fire station at roughly 11 pm-ish, called 911 about two hours later with weakness, numbness, and generally just not sure I was getting enough oxygen.)

Short version, I went to the walk-in cheap clinic the next day to see if I could get an x-ray (which I did, the doctor was very helpful and sympathetic), and the boy who did my 'check in', taking my blood pressure and all that, said something about my blood pressure being pretty good for someone my size.

I said, "What do you mean?"

He said, "Well, you know, you're kind of petite?  Like a teenager?"

This kid had to be just barely 20 or so, so it was interesting to have him make this comment.  He seemed nervous, so I tried to put him at ease by asking him how long he'd been doing this work.  "Five months," he said proudly.  He was a cute kid, and obviously trying really hard to do his job right.  I also wondered if *I* made him nervous, the skinny white lady who 'looks like a teenager' - he was black, so maybe there are some stereotypes from the other side?  I'm sure there must be, I just don't know what they are.

And also, the population served by that clinic is mostly latino, with a few asians

Can I help it if my life didn't go in the same order/sequence as everybody else's? No.

***
Oh, and that's not even the weirdest part of the evening: I stopped at the 7-11 to get ice on the way home, and on my way out I shoved the door open really hard with my foot because I had my hands full, and, I admit, because I just like doing it - it makes me feel powerful. Because I CAN :-)

Anyway, there was this fat guy coming toward me on the sidewalk when I did it, and he got kind of a surprised look, like he was trying to figure out if I was being aggressive?  But I just ignored him, I actually didn't see him til after I'd already opened the door.

And then there was this other car that had either just pulled up or was parking when I got out the door, and I had the impression of someone looking at me.

I walked to my car at the other end of the parking lot, and as I turned to unlock the door, there was this (dare I say it?  Gorgeous?) transvestite guy getting out of his car and he looked RIGHT AT ME. Several times, even looking at me over his shoulder as he was walking into the store. By this time I was in my car and feeling so giddy from the weird encounters that I kind of shuddered and let out a yell through the sun roof. I'm sure the guys getting gas were wondering what the heck *that* was all about. Consider it a wolf howl, guys :-) (The transvestite was wearing a blonde wig and knee-high boots, and a fairly conservative outfit, sort of like some version of a 60s, stereotyped secretary?  Not sure how to describe it, never seen one quite like that before.  And I also just watch Kinky Boots again recently, so that was fresh in my mind, too. I *love* the black guy who plays the lead in that movie, he is absolutely GORGEOUS.)

I think I must still be finding things out about who I am, based on things *other* people seem to see in me that I can't (yet?) see in myself. It's like I supressed those things for a long time, and now they're beginning to feel safe to come out and play (wicked grin :-) 

I'm also noticing there seems to be some kind of trend going on here with meeting people in parking lots, of all places. Three times in a month? After very little action in quite a long time? *I* think that counts as a 'trend'. :-)