Dirty Converse
“The beauty of a woman is not in a facial mode, but the true beauty of a woman is reflected in her soul.”
I shouldn’t apologize for the lapse in posts because a girl has to live too. As much as I love writing, these bills don’t sleep so I have other things to attend to. “Ain’t no rest for the wicked. Money don’t go on trees.” We all know that Cage the Elephant song.
In the midst of that hustle and bustle, I did something unexpected: I talked to a random guy who stopped me in the parking lot while picking up a food order. For those who are new here, I used to do Lyft and Uber part-time for extra cash and now I deliver food instead of people for extra cash. In this economy, one must have a side ponytail. But I’m also going through an extensive hiring process for something where I can put being of service to good use.
Anyways, I was picking up food and this guy randomly stopped me after a doctor from the IV place I parked in front of looked me up and down.
Alexa, play “Dirty Converse” by Pink Laundry.
“There you were. White t-shirt and blue jeans, on the porch. No makeup or earrings, sweat on the face. Porcelain skin that is making me blush. And I like your baseball cap. The way you rock it like you don’t give a crap. Your dirty converse gliding over the earth. You look so smooth that it hurts my eyes…”
For the record, these days I spend most of them makeup free. I did my hair and obviously my skincare routine before I went outside. But I was relatively low-key in high-waisted 90s jeans, a navy blue strapless top and…dirty converse. To be fair, they’re white and hard to keep clean.
I’ve been told I have a unique look to me. I suppose it must be true since the guy who stopped me asked me if I was Brazilian. I had to pause because we live in the “Show me your papers” era. I told him that I’m Black and Native American. He told me that I looked like a Brazilian girl he once knew. I told him “No, I’m not Brazilian. Sorry.” Then came an unexpected compliment that low-key touched my soul: “You look smart.” Somehow that came across more flattering than a “You’re so hot. Can I have your number?” Now, he did ask me for my number but telling me that I look smart was kind of next level on his part. How did I respond? “It’s the glasses, but they just help me see.”
Let me explain why “You look smart” was refreshing. If you’re my age, you might remember an animated film called The Swan Princess. In the movie, Prince Derek tells Princess Odette that she’s all he’s ever wanted because she’s beautiful. She replies, “Thank you. But what else?” Of course being a man, Prince Derek sticks both feet in his mouth by asking “What else is there?”
He saw more than the physical. The only reason I stopped talking to him is because I didn’t feel we had anything in common. But I think I gave him my number in an attempt to be more open or at least appear more open to my friends. They were so proud in the group chat because I was social.
In all honesty — it was refreshing to give my phone number to someone in person instead of over a dating app. To quote Kelly in one of my favorite shows of all-time, Insecure: “That’s called growth. You a big girl. Got those big girl panties on.”
I just might wear my dirty converse more often.