Your A Good Man, Charlie Brown

I am coming home on the N-Train last night from flamenco concert at Carnegie Hall. I get on the train at Times Square and know that it will be about 30 minute ride to my stop in Astoria. After that it is a 13 block walk to my apartment. That translates to 10-15 minutes. New Yorkers, at least the one who live in the City, walk everywhere. I get in the train and lean against the door that connects to the next car. (Notice how I said get “in” the train, and not on the train. Evil Knivel can get on the train, freakin’ nut.) And there is this really cute, Hispanic woman sitting to the left of me. We make eye contact and smile. I don’t think too much about it at first.

We end up making eye contact and smiling the entire trip back to Astoria. She’s got her headphones in, looks up at me and smiles. I am playing bowling on my cell phone (Hi, Rachel!) I look catch her eye and smile again. And I mean, she is giving me the I’m-really-interested-in-you-eyes-and-smile.

This is driving me nuts sending my mind spiraling through so many thoughts. What do I do? Should I start talking to her? We’re in a crowded train, how can I do that and not look like an idiot? Also, let me check my pockets. . .Damn it, I am out of gum. I wonder what my breath smells like. If I am going to talk with her, in these cramped quarters, I at least want to have fresh breath. And really, I must have a B.I.V. or something, because she can’t think that I am good looking tonight. I have a bit of a hat head, and surely the circles under my eyes are dark right now.

She didn’t hear my internal monologue of course. She just kept making eye contact and smiling. I guess she did think I was good looking regardless of the hat head. This brings to mind some things that have happened at work. Apparently, I am a wanted man by both women and men. My co-worker told me, “Jim, I have never seen someone cause quite a commotion here as you.”

I reply, “Well, there are some cute girls here.”

He says, “No Jim, you don’t understand. It’s among the men too.” Now my company is very diverse and has a good percentage of homosexuals, lesbians and trans-gender people working there. I totally cool with that. I actually welcome the diversity. Also, I don’t mind that men find me good-looking. The male ego has no sexual preference. I could be walking down the street with my homophobic, conservative best friend. A gay man could walk past and say to me, “Nice ass!” As much as my friend would deny it, one of the top five thoughts going through his head will be “What, my ass isn’t good enough?” He would probably go to his wife that evening and ask, "Honey, I have a nice ass, right?" She would then look at him very strange and then say yes to comfort his ego. But I digress.

One of my supervisors even told me that a girl from another office was throwing herself at me during the first few weeks that I worked there. I didn’t notice one, because I am usually clueless when that happens and two, I was still dating my girlfriend at that time and I don’t cheat. Sorry, I never break that rule. So I tell my supervisor that I just can’t see why this woman was attracted to me. She says, “Jim, you are a very good looking man!”

My reply, “I don’t see myself that way.” She asks, “Why not.”

“I guess I have never been concerned about being a good-looking man, but rather a good man. In the long run, my looks will fade, my hair will fall out (it is starting to thin now, damn your genes, Dad!), but what’s inside lasts forever.”

My supervisor isn’t the only person who has told me that recently. A friend from college reconnected with me through this blog. She had said that she had freshman crush on me as apparently many a girl did at Greensboro College. My reply was something to effect of if there were all this girls that found me attractive, how come my phone was ringing off the hook! I am on the phone with another friend a few weeks ago and she says, "Spider, you're hot!" And we've never kissed because. . . .

Again, I am getting off topic. Ok, so I am apparently an attractive man. Why don't I see that? In talking with the last friend recently she mentioned that a friend of her's said that "we all have our Mikael-Gorbechev New Zealand wine stain on our foreheads." Ok, she didn't say that exactly but I don't want to give away too much personal info about my friend. Her friend went on to say that it is how we deal with that wine stain that shows our true selfs to others. Think about it, the guy who has lost a leg is probably so self-conscious about it. But ever meet someone who while having no leg moves like they had two. Or acts that it isn't even missing and you don't notice it either.

So I guess what I am getting at is that people don't see the faults that we see in ourselves. Myself, I still see the skinny kid from Long Island. Sure I have a bit more facial hair now, but that is who I see in the mirror. Granted I may weigh a good 15 pounds more than I did at 18 (a good 15 pounds), but I am still the boy that was called "Ethiopian" in elementary school for being so skinny. (God kids are so cruel.) But I also see, when I look in the mirror, a man who has done good things. A man who have been loved, who does love. I see a dreamer, a composer. I see my smile.

Which brings us back to the girl on the train. I think people are most attractive when they are living to their highest self, when they are living congruent to their values and dreams. For instance, my friend is involved in theatre. When she is on stage or working backstage, she is in her element and she just shines. Perhaps, that is what all the girls at GC saw. I was just playing my guitar, having a good time and trying to make people smile. Nothing more. Just living to who I am. And perhaps that is what the girl on the train saw. I had just come from this amazing flamenco concert. I had went with a guitarist friend who was dying to see the show, so I felt great that I could share the experience with him. And there I was on the train happy, smiling because I was happy.

You are probably dying to know what happened, right? Well, I let her go. Sorry to dissapoint you. I know that I should have slipped her my card or followed her off at her exit. She did say to me, "Have a good night" as she walked off the train one stop before mine. I could have gotten off. It would have only added 10 minutes to my walk home. But that wasn't my purpose for the evening. I wasn't looking to pick up a girl. I wanted to have a good night with my friend, be inspired by some incredible music and then go to sleep fairly early so I can be rested after a stressful week. (By the way, I finally finished that loft.) The smiles and flirting I had with that girl were just icing on the cake and was a nice reminder that I am good looking. . .even when I don't believe it myself.

And besides, there will always be more cute girls on the train. There always are here in NYC.