Guy v. Grill


This is a true story.  It happened just before Christmas while I was in Atlanta…

The other day I meandered downtown to the main library. And I mean ‘DOWNTOWN’! Right there on Peachtree Street. Across from the homeless park and my favorite building in the entire city – the Georgia Pacific Building made from real Georgia pink marble, or is it granite? Who cares, it’s pink, it’s from Georgia, and if you look at the building from just the right angle, it’s two-dimensional.  It’s the library where you have to pass through security to get in.

Having not been there before, I wasn’t too sure where I was going. I walked up a level and there were work stations & books & such.  I thought, “Hey, I could meet a fab guy in here!”  Ever the optimist amongst the homeless.  (Tyler Perry was homeless in Atlanta at one time.) I meandered through some of the isles checking the place out. Looking down one isle, way at the end, I saw a person laid out, face down, with a book near their head. (But it didn’t quite look right – hmmm, did this person pass out? were they sleeping? was it a medical emergency? One has to be prepared for all sorts of things down town because you never quite know what will happen.) So, I walked towards this person, but in the row next to him/her. (Because I didn’t want to save the day if it didn’t need saving) When I got to the end, I peeked around. I guess they heard my superpowered unstealthiness because they picked up their head and the book and acted like they were reading. (Hey, maybe they were.) I suppose I could nap in the library if I needed to. It was warm & quiet. So, I didn’t disturb the person and continued meandering.

I found a work station that was marked for “wifi users” with a power strip to plug in to. It was divided into 4 areas, each subdivided, for total seating of 8. However, strangers don’t like to be too close, as one may have BO or sticky fingers. One side had the users’ backs to the main lobby of that floor (oh, I don’t like that). But on the other side, it had a row of filing cabinets and it was near a sidewall – so I could snuggle up back in that corner and do my work.

So, I’m back in my corner, doing my work, minding my own business – when this dude walks up to me and says, “DAMN!” I looked up & around (huh? did someone just die?) and there is this remarkable young man staring right at me, smiling broadly, just about blinding me.

He’s about 5’9″, 130# black male, black hair, brown eyes and a snazzy gold grill. He proceeds to walk over and sit down on the stool next to me.  “Wow!” he says, “you are beautiful” I laugh, “why thank you” (really, who could not laugh in the face of this (fool) ambitious young man?) It just went down hill from there – well, what I could understand of him.  At no disrespect to anyone, he had that inner city, black chat (look, folks, I sat here for 10 minutes trying to figure out how to say that nicely, but, what the hell? how do you describe him slurring his words, speaking half words, and not being able to understand what should be english?  “ghetto talk”? Ok, now that really would’ve been not nice).  He was telling how beautiful I was, what a great smile I had, asked if I’d ever been with a black man, he knows how to treat a woman right, and about every fourth word I was saying, “pardon?””What?””I didn’t understand what you said.”  I was able to understand enough to piece together that he was not shy around women, had a job, came to the library to check his email and was 26.  “26?” I said, “I could be your mother.  In fact, I have a 24 year old daughter.”

Yes, I am all that and a bag of crisps (you have to read that last word with a British accent, because they don’t say “chips” and I’ve watched way too much BBC lately.) I don’t think I’ve done too many men in their 20s, even when I was in my own 20s.  Actually, maybe only 2 that I can recall.

And, yes, all men should want me if they have any sense.

But, bless this young guy’s heart, I was almost embarrassed for him. I couldn’t take my eyes off his pretty gold teeth.   Finally, I said, “I really have to get back to my school work.” and he bid me adieu (well, I think he actually slurred his “ok” and left).

As I left the library later that day, I told God, “I said ‘ fab GUY’, not ‘GRILL’!”

 

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