Someone Thinks I'm Gorgeous

A man- a stranger- called me gorgeous today. This happened while walking to the train station in downtown Portland. It's been a while since a man has gone out of his way to compliment me- years, probably.

In almost every case it's been an African-American man... maybe it's the same guy and I just forget the face? My usual reaction is to scoff at the comment, while unable to stop myself from smiling. Sometimes I say, "Thank you," while at other times, including this particular interaction, I don't say anything at all and continue walking towards my destination. How did the man want me to react? Did he expect a reaction at all? A first thought that goes through my head is, "How sexually degrading."
If a stranger talks about my looks in a place that's dark and secluded, my initial emotion is skin tingling fear and I look around to make sure there is an official guard or policeman nearby, just in case. The comment may be truthful and lighthearted, but it's nonetheless uncalled for. I hadn't ask whether the man thought I was pretty or not. It's intimidating and he could have dangerous motives.
In today's case, this man, who was about my age and looked like another PSU student, and I were in the middle of a crowded urban setting, at the end of the afternoon. I didn't feel threatened.
That's what it comes down to. The danger. Constantly you read in the newspapers and hear on the news how a woman never returned from a quick trip to the supermarket, or how another woman was kidnapped in broad daylight in her own car in a public parking lot. I feel the instinct to take any potential situation seriously.
With all of this under consideration, I still walked away from the scene feeling girlish and flattered.
Maybe you're wondering "Ok Liz, but why did you bring up the fact that he was black?" It's an observation I made that most out-of-the-blue sweet talkers are African-American men, which makes me think it's a cultural thing. In comparison, any white man who has complimented my looks is always fifty years or older, and usually European! Have you had different experiences?

When I got to the train station and the MAX pulled up, I couldn't help but look at myself in the reflection of the train's window. "I am beautiful," I thought to myself. It's good to be reminded.

When I talk to customers...

...I unconciously talk with a southern accent.

Passing By

It's a 15 minute walk from the MAX station to the PSU campus. I've been walking to and from school for 5 years now. I've walked at the butt-crack of dawn, and I've walked at 9:30 at night. The people of Portland are so different from the people in my suburban town. They are more eccentric, more wealthy, more broke, more rude, and more accepting, depending on who you walk by.
I may be a bit on the paranoid side, but I get so uncomfortable when a man (any age) walks by and stares at me until we pass each other. Sometimes they smile a big toothy grin, and their eyes get really wide, like I just jumped out of the bushes and shouted "Happy Birthday!!" to them. I tend to keep my eyes forward, pretending we didn't just make eye contact.
Then the person may decide to say something, just as we pass each other. It's usually something like "How you doing?" or "Hello." Totally innocent sounding, right? But when you put the creepy grin and the lengthy staring with it, it all gets uncomfortable and my answer is usually different depending on what time of day it is, how many people are around, and how creepy the guy is. Sometimes I just pretend I didn't hear them.
But there ARE guys out there that can pull off a "passing-by-smile" and not make me think about how fast I can get to my pepper spray. It's just a simple 2 second long smile proceeding a simple 2 second eye contact. It says without words that "I acknowledge your existence and appreciate this brief moment that we have walking past eachother." It'll even brighten up my mood sometimes.
Do men encounter this problem at all? This is a daily thing for me. I assume for guys it would not so much be a creepy problem as a "Could this guy beat me up?" kind of a thing. I don't know.
Maybe I'm just paranoid.

Gender confusion

This blog is meant to encourage readers to share their own stories based on my posts about everday awkward living. This post may not be the case because I could be the only person who experiences this:
Once in a while I'll think about myself in the future, imagining that I've become a famous painter, filmmaker, musician, politician, or maybe even philanthropist! Sometimes I'll imagine myself being interviewed on E! Biographies or something like that. Now, it's not like I do this just so I can talk about myself in my own head, but to think about what I want to accomplish in life. It also comes up kind of subconsciously. I imagine telling my own autobiography in anticipation that if somebody asks me "Why did you choose to paint over becoming a dancer," or "What was your reason for moving to New Zealand and raising twelve children?" I would have an answer ready. It's all a bit ludicrous since I really don't know where I'll be in forty years, but that's not the craziest part!
What I don't understand is that when I imagine these interviews, I'm a sixty year old man, usually with a gray beard. Did you get that?! A MAN! Is our society so male-dominated that I can't even imagine myself as a famous WOMAN? It's kinda like when your reading an article and you automatically imagine a man wrote it until you see the author's name is something like Betty O'Connell. Except I KNOW I'm a woman!
What does this mean? Do I not see myself accomplishing anything in life so I subconsciously replace my older self with an anonymous man? Have I maybe seen too many television interviews with bearded men thus proving my male-dominated theory? Am I sexist against my own gender?
I guess this is just something I'll have to consciously change, or maybe I should just stop imagining myself in the far future since I don't even know if I'll be a single, overachieving, workaholic artist, or a family woman living on the other side of the planet with twelve little munchkins and an Australian/Filipino husband.

Where the Sidewalk Begins

Today I was crossing a busy road towards the sidewalk. Thinking it was closer than it really was, I took a large step, but the curb was not there so I fell into my own momentum. I was so surprised I immediately yelped and continued to trip over my feet. It was as if the sidewalk had inched itself away from me just to see what would happen.
The event was a quick moment in time, but the embarrassment lasted many times longer. Nobody pointed out their car window and laughed nor did anyone approach me and say "Hey you! You drunk or something"?!, which caused me to think that they must have quietly pitied me from behind their tinted vehicular windows.
Most likely nobody noticed my clumsy mistake at all. For some reason that makes it seem all the more sad. :P