I exist. I may be insignificant among all those who exist, have ever existed or shall exist, but I exist. I live. I breathe. I absorb energy. I exert energy. Sometimes, I even move and speak. So maybe you have never seen me, but somebody has to write all this stuff, nie?
I was beginning to think that I am invisible. And I don’t mean figuratively invisible as in “Whoa as me. There’s no place in society for a woman my age”. No, not like that. I was beginning to think that I am literally invisible – as in POOF! Where’s she gone? –invisible. Why? Because in a 24-hour period I have had road salt thrown on me from the front (yummy), sidewalk sand thrown on me from behind and then I was plowed over by a lady running to catch the bus in the morning. No “przepraszam’s. No “sorki’s”. Nothing.
But after this morning I guess I am not so invisible. It is amazing how a smile and a one-word invitation, “Kawa?” from a gentleman on the street can make you suddenly feel visible again. My existence has been reinforced. Even if my reply was a demure, “Dziękuje, ale nie.” (And yes, I did look behind me to make sure he was talking to me.)
Disappointed? What should I have said? I cannot go for a coffee with you because…
I have 2 children?
I just may be old enough to be your mother?
I’m due at work in less than 10 minutes?
I’ve already had 3 cups of coffee this morning and I’m bursting at the seams?
I only drink coffee with strange men for money?
All or any of these? I mean they are all true, even the last one, (don’t judge me) but none of them is the reason I refused.
Ok, I confess, it was his jeans, his impossibly small, incredibly tight skinny jeans. You know the kind of jeans so tight as to render a fellah infertile. Those kind of jeans. I’m not a picky gal, really. And it’s not for reasons of fashion that I refused as the guy looked good. In fact, I think he took notice of me because we were similarly dressed, very matchy-matchy, or perhaps he was impressed by my example of superb parking skills today as a slid into a teeny-tiny spot. It was a complete fluke. Everybody knows that I need at least 3 parking spots to park my one car. Well, everybody knows except that guy.
I am a woman of principle (well kind of) and I have a rule: Just say no to boys whose dzinsowe rurki are smaller than yours. Simple. Easy. Effective. Guaranteed to keep you out of trouble. Take that advice free of charge.