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.