People watching is a girl thing?!? Man! Where have you been?
I love sitting at a table at a cafe, my latte gently steaming, taking a look through the paper (Phillies won again!), and I hear that clack, clack clack coming up behind me. In the reflection on the water pitcher, I can see she’ll be worth turning around for, so I look up, as if surprised. Oh boy! This woman would make Guy Noire turn over in his grave (he’s not dead yet, so imagine what I mean).
It isn’t just what she looks like (gorgeous) or how she’s dressed (outrageously hot), but she has this presence that says she knows she is something else.
I snap my paper hoping to attract a glance, but she is sailing down her own personal waterway on the sidewalk, never having to change her path, nor look to one side or the other. When she steps off the curb at the end of the block, there is a cab right there and a doorman (where the hell did he come from?) opening the door for her and helping her in. I turn back to my latte, noticing a faint floral scent that has descended upon all in her path as a reminder of the grace that has just anointed us.
(Ok, so that was a fantasy, but still, you’ve seen something close to that, right?)
When I eat lunch at the outdoor food court, there are young people of all races, nationalities and, of course, genders. It is a delightful place to girl people watch. Sigh. I suppose that, for me, one of the delights of getting older is that I no longer feel a need to apologize for being a guy.