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My Girard Park Boyfriends

October 14, 2014

I look forward to my walk every day for the evening sun, the fresh air, the green everywhere, the endorphins flooding my neural networks. But it’s more fun when I think I might see someone cute who makes eye contact and smiles. I call them my park boyfriends. Tennis Bashir had been the first. How I loved see his tall figure, broad shoulders, wavy hair and gorgeous smile as I demurely walked past the tennis courts.

I have a few little hotties I like to look at these days. But I get mad at them. I mean, they know I’m there everyday at the same time. I think at least one of them should be there every day. Is that too much to ask? Can I get some organization here? A facebook group? I don’t think it’s unreasonable to have at least one of my Girard Park boyfriends walking or running the path every day.

Let’s meet them:

1. Army guy: Very young. Too young. He always has a crew cut or shaved head. He ran at the park for a long time before he started waving and saying hi. Now he always does. Very dependable with a nice smile.

2. Aztec Man: Probably Mexican, he has strong, angular features, dark beautiful skin and blue black hair. He just looks at me, cracking a smirk sometimes. He makes me a little nervous, like he could actually talk to me one day. We can’t have that. He used to show up several times a week, but now it’s rare to see him running, which pisses me off. Once I was at my bike, just as he had started running and he looked at me and smiled and I smiled back and we exchanged some kind of telepathic communication that said, “Yeah, I know you like me. Yeah, I think you’re cute and you think I’m cute and we’ll never ever do anything about it because this is the park and that’s the way it works.”

3. The Acquaintance: This is the guy Liz claims has a crush on me. We’ve actually spoken out in the real world. “I’d love to hear that story over wine.”

“Sure. Anytime.” Will never happen. He says, “Hi Marie,” as he jogs by. Inaction incarnate. I like seeing him purely on a primal, ego level. I’m not sure I’m really attracted to him.

4. Hawaiian Man: I know I’m a racist. We’ve been through this. Being an aficionado of men whose ancestry gives them skin with colors that range from cafe latte to dark chocolate, I’m pretty good at guessing nationalitites. This guy is definitely Hawaiian. Maybe Filipino. He’s a recent addition. It took him a week or so to realize that yes, I would be there every single time he showed up after 5pm because I’m there every day! He started waving hello. I waved back. Lately he’s been smirking with a smile that says, “I’m so in love with you.” I’m pretty sure that’s what it says. I might be wrong. It’s only a matter of time before he ‘s pulls a Tennis Bashir and sits at a picnic table, waits for me to pass by and introduces himself like a man. Just kidding, that’s never gonna happen. He’s probably married.

5. The Greek God: Another one that’s way too young. The first time I saw him I was in awe. My daughter told me that she cried when she saw Michelangelo’s David in Rome. I think I know how she feels. This young man is the perfect specimen of a human body. And he has a lovely head of black wavy hair. He runs like a gazelle. I couldn’t place his nationality until I saw him at an Indian event. I shouldn’t count him because I am invisible to him. But seeing him is pleasant, like a beautiful flower or the sun streaming across the lawn after a rain or a perfect rainbow.

6. The Cardiologist: An older Indian man who just has to be a cardiologist. He has a look of wisdom on his face. And the way he runs. Steady, straight, disciplined yet vigorous. He waves at me now, too. He just looks like a cardiologist. I feel somehow more secure when he’s there. Like the captain of the ship is on deck.

6. J: My all time favorite. I think I have a full fledged crush on J. Very tall, broad shoulders and a full head of hair. His skin is on the darker side of the Indian spectrum and I know what Z would call him. I met him at the volleyball tournament Z played in the last time he was here. He came up to me and said, “You walk at Girard Park, right?” My favorite thing about him is his big, easy smile. When we cross paths he lights up with a smile that says,”I’m a happy person.” I could get used to that smile. I get really mad at him. He’s the worst offender. He doesn’t run everyday. Not even twice or three times a week, consistently. And he’s so slow! He rests for a while by the playground, runs half a lap then rests again or walks at a turtle’s pace the rest of the way. Doesn’t he understand that to get a maximum number of crossings per lap, you have to book it. Four laps in opposing directions, that’s 8 encounters. At his pace, I get to smile at him twice if I’m lucky. I should facebook friend him. We have like 30 mutual friends. I should start messaging him and telling him to get his ass out to the park more often. Yeah. That’s a great plan. I mean, that’s what I need, right? Another Indian graduate student to “date.” Because it’s worked so well for me so far.

 

Oh God. I’m going to die alone.

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