1/7/2011 - cruised by a good-looking FiDizen. . .

I have not gone to the gym this year.  I blame it on this cold I've had for the last week, and while that part is true, it certainly doesn't explain the two weeks I missed at the end of last year. 

I've also stopped using styling products in my hair when getting ready in the morning.  Ironic, I know, given my relationship, but I got it in my head that I am losing the hair on the top of my head, and also, somehow, am convinced that if I gave my hair a rest, an undetermined amount of time to go naked and breathe, it will minimize their distress and stop them from jumping ship.  It's fun Kubler-Ross time!

Today, I am taking "casual Friday" particularly seriously, let's just say.  Why bother looking nice, if I haven't bothered to go to the gym or do my hair and my nose runneth over from an endless fountain of snot?

So imagine my surprise when, earlier this morning, I actually got cruised by a good-looking FiDizen while en route to Walgreen's.  I didn't notice him until he was practically right in front of me, so it was too late to really take notes on what he looked like.

(6'1", buzz cut, faintly Italian with a tattoo snaking out from under his V-neck sweater amidst trimmed but substantial chest hair.  I did what I could in a pinch.)

He obviously studied the gay book on cruising: steady, intense eye contact; slight head turn as we crossed paths; a quick flick of his eyes away from mine down to my toes and back.

A+!

It took me just an extra second to really comprehend what happened, and when I did, I looked back, more quizzically than to reciprocate any perceived attention.  He was standing on the opposite corner, waiting to cross to the other.  He was already looking back, raised his eyebrows, and flashed a crooked smile.

It was a shy, self-conscious smile, one that was more Hey there than How you doin'?  More My name is ____ than Let's find a place to ____.

Then I turned back around and walked into the store.  It was a quick moment, over in less than a minute.  I don't even remember if I smiled back.  Not that it matters. 

But it's just that his attention comes during a time when I have not been feeling particularly attractive.  I mean, frumpiness and hair loss does not a hot man make.  It reminds me of Milan Kundera's Identity, where Chantal, after noticing the effects of aging, feels that men don't turn to look at her anymore. 

So in this way, I should thank him for turning to look at me today, for seeing me, even if I was seen with mom jeans, a softening body, and hair that betrayed not a touch of homosexual style.  It still felt pretty awesome.