Do you ever wonder about how others perceive you? I sometimes wonder. Take the other morning when I met Kenny. Now I have to say until the other morning I had not previously met Kenny on the 6.19a.m bus, and sadly I haven’t seen him since. I like to think I am fairly unobtrusive and maybe even reasonably invisible (I have always fancied that as a super-power), however Kenny got on the bus in Maryhill about 40 minutes into my work journey and practically made a bee-line for me in an otherwise fairly empty bus. It could be that I was one of only two women and certainly the one without a thick dark moustache (I have almost white hair so my moustache only shows up in certain light) or it could have been that I am wildly alluring in a way I just don’t get, what is more, it is fair to say I was not looking my sparkling best. This being the end of hay-fever season, makeup has slid down my face and yes we are talking first thing in the morning – despite primer and whatnot, what originally was mascara and eye make up is now arranged in vertical stripes due to snotters and streaming eyes, - I look like I have bar-coded my face. This is no deterrent to Kenny, in fact it seems wildly attractive. Kenny wants to talk to me as I have a friendly air (since when did stripes mean friendly?) Kenny wants to know why am I crying? And do I need comforting? Do I have a man at the moment? Kenny doesn’t mind. In fact Kenny knows a pub that he would like to take me (this is 6.55 a.m), he thinks we could do with a drink and he reckons I am either a vodka and tonic woman (nope) or a baccardi and coke kinda gal (nope – wrong again). Kenny has just lost his third wife and needs cheering up, not that she’s “deid or anything”, she just sloped off with someone else (I wonder what “anything” could be in this context), but he’s game if I am. I last see Kenny trotting off towards the bookies in West Nile St once we hit town, maybe it was his lucky day – just not with me.
Kenny is not the only one, it is not even as though I am putting myself out there (at least I dont think so) – usually I am sat in my anorak, head phones on, nose in a book, if that is what constitutes man-magnet these days then please tell me. Last summer on one particularly hot and sticky afternoon coming home I was accosted by another fine gentleman. This one wanted to sell me (and pretty much only me on a fairly crowded bus) some pollybear (polar bear) slippers, not a pair mind – he had sold out of those, now he just had single slippers left. For some reason he just seemed to know I was the woman to wear fluffy polar bear heads on my feet of an evening. Sadly however I like my polar bears in twos, matching.
Some days I think I must give off special rays