My roommate calls me "Hobobait." I feel like this is generally a very well earned nickname, because I have a down right GIFT of being approached by men who could be deemed as a hobo. Just this week I've had at least 4 encounters with such gentleman.
There was the guy with who came up to me outside the subway stop at 49th and our conversation went a little something like this:
"Hey lady, give me a smile."
(Pleased that he didn't ask for money or a piece of 'that ass', I obliged.)
He then proceeded to show me his bank statements and an application for a loan that he needed so he could take 'the ladies' out and treat them real good. I quickly tried to find an exit out of this situation, because well, I just wasn't ready to show him my bank statements. I'm a lady after all.
Then there was the guy who yelled at me while I was trying to cross the street on 26th. I was just minding my business, drinking my morning coffee, listening to some pretentious indie music, when this man with maybe 3 teeth just starts yelling at me. I believe it was along the lines of:
"WHERE ARE YOU GOING WOMAN?? WHAT?!!? YOU TOO GOOD TO TALK TO ME?! Hope that coffee tastes real good!"
I was all together offended that he thought I was too good to talk to him (just because my taste in music is pretentious doesn't mean I am...right?) I was also angry that he referred to me as 'woman' (like I said before, I am a LADY) and that he made me feel guilty about my coffee. Coffee and I have had a beautiful co-dependent relationship. It's been there for me through thick and thin, my dependency on it makes me feel like I am truly an adult, it's my fuel, it's my fire, it's my one desire....How DARE he? And even though I just expressed my co-dependent relationship with coffee doesn't mean I enjoy co-dependency in men. Needless to say, me and hobo #2 would have NEVER worked out. After all, he was so concerned where I was going and we hadn't even had a first date. Overbearing people are so unattractive.
My next encounter was in bowels Harlem...at 1am...waiting for the bus alone. You're probably thinking I am stupid or that I was secretly hoping to be harassed that night and maybe I am and mayyyyybe I was, but that's neither here nor there. But this particular gentleman was actually pretty nice. He told me I had the face of an angel and although I'm sure that's what he says to all the ladies (the ladies like me, who when you compliment her and then ask her for a dollar she feels guilty in some way and will of course give you a dollar.) While he seemed nice, I didn't foresee a future for us. Not only because I feel like our relationship would really take a toll on my bank account but mostly because he was wearing workman's gloves and if I've been taught anything about future mates, it's not to trust a man who wears workman's gloves on a warm spring evening at 1am in the bowels of Harlem...Mama didn't raise no fool.
The final encounter of the week happened this morning while I was walking to the train. This man simply growled at me and then started making uncomfortable noises with his mouth. There was no chance for him...A man who can't use his words? I mean COME ON...at least be creative when you are objectifying someone.
I know what you're thinking. "It must be so hard for you, how do you manage?" And you know what, I manage. I do. Because I just know one day I'll meet the hobo of my dreams and we will read each others bank statements over coffee every morning in our very own cardboard box under the Triborough Bridge, while planning all the romantic dates we will go on with the millions of dollars the government will loan us and I won't care if he demands to know where I am going, as long as he accepts my pretentious taste in music. I will eventually be charmed by his vulgar animal grunts and mouth sex noises and yes I will pay him everyday for making me feel so beautiful. However I will not accept the workman's gloves but we will get past that. I am a woman after all, and if there's not at least one thing about him I feel like I can change then it will CLEARLY never work.
What can I say? I'm a hopeless romantic...