Hello There...

I am one of those people that strangers talk to. People appear and begin conversations with me all the time.


Just now I was on my way to Dunkin Donuts for coffee, a two block walk from my office, and an older woman stopped me to ask if I thought it was going to rain and did I think she should stay in town and have lunch or go on back home.


Its the kind of conversation I get often. Rarely does anyone just want to know what time it is, they want a discussion. And, as in the case today, my calculated judgment. Now the sun is out and I told the lady that if she didn't have an umbrella then maybe she should go home, so I'm sitting here feeling guilty that I spoiled her downtown lunch on a nice afternoon. I'm wondering if she'll have her umbrella if I ever run into her again, and if she'll see fit to smack me with it..."Thanks a lot. Don't you realize I don't know how many nice lunches I could have left at my age!" ...whack, whack.


My friend tells me that I look 'approachable.' Yeah, well, so do hookers. Its a good thing she's a well meaning friend, because she laughs when I say that, but she also admits that she doesn't get accosted nearly as often. When I consider how I think I would look to the casual passerby, I imagine appearing unfocused and preoccupied. I'm not usually thinking about what I'm doing or where I'm going, and frankly congratulate myself when I don't walk right past my destination or forget what I went into the store to get.


I'm amazed anyone would think I'd be the one to strike up a conversation with, but they seem to think I know something. Maybe my far off expression leads them to believe that I'm gathering information from a benevolent spiritual guide instead of trying to get that one damn line in a half written poem or what it was I promised myself I wouldn't forget to do.


Although I seem to be popular with all ages of strangers, I'm the biggest hit with elderly men. Maybe whatever attracts them to me is a vibe that I have a soft spot for them. I love to listen to their stories, respect their wisdom, and always come away having learned something. They always seem disappointed when I have to say goodbye, which is just another thing I can add that to my ever expanding and invisible guilt quota jar. I often feel like offering my phone number so we can continue another time, but then consider their little old wives finding it scrawled in a shaky hand on the back of a prescription bag and demanding to know "who this hussy Linda is." And then I see them trying to explain that I was just a woman they met on the street who looked..friendly.