In my early 20’s, I got hit on by a fellow named Shady at a gas station. He told me I was beautiful and then asked me for my phone number. He offered to pump my gas. He wasn’t being chivalrous; it was part of his job. He was the station attendant.
Last year, at the tail end of a girls’ night out, my girlfriend and I ended up at a lounge. A particularly aggressive-looking young man made a beeline for me and introduced himself. His name slips my mind, but I do recall that he had just gotten out of prison and that most of his front teeth were missing. I vividly remember this last fact because a generous sprinkling of his salivary gland emissions landed on my brand new dress.
Which brings us to last week.
I challenged myself to embrace the museum experience as a Monday Dare, and after a few misstarts, I finally spent my Thursday afternoon at the LACMA. Afraid of repeating the Louvre debacle, I refrained from commenting or pointing. I’m not gonna lie….it was hard. I guess I’ll go ahead and mention that I leaned against some wood left over from the construction of an exhibit to steady myself while I adjusted my shoe, and come to find out from an official museum person, the wood was the exhibit. Oh, contemporary art, it’s never easy with you, is it?
I should really tell you about the genuinely delightful time I had at the museum but instead, I’m going to fill you in on the Dazzler (an official museum person, no less) that asked me the magical question that unlocks all the doors of my heart.
Are you Chinese?
Because I like to practice being classy once in a while, I smiled and walked away, politely throwing a “no” in his direction. He clearly wasn’t satisfied with my answer. He trotted along next to me and asked-
You gotta man?
I decided classy wasn’t really the way to go here, so I picked up the pace and curtly informed him that I was married. And that’s when he decided to bare his heartstrings-
Is he here?
Mom, wife, artist, and most certainly, bonafide Dazzler magnet.
