A Brilliant Pick-Up Line

Today I was accosted by a young man while waiting to cross the street a block away from my house. I had been leaning against a big, green metal object, which shifted dramatically with my weight. I circled around it and it began to look like a mailbox but I couldn't find a mail-slot and upon looking at it more closely, I saw that almost all of its feet were not screwed into the sidewalk as a normal mailbox's are.

I leaned against the big green object that looked like a mailbox but wasn't again. It was warm from the sun and felt good.

"You're strong," said a voice from behind me. I turned and saw a young Black man dressed in a polo shirt with a USB drive around his neck.

I nodded back. "What's your name?" he asked. I smiled, asking myself if this was a time I could feign not speaking English or if it would be too rude for just to say that I wasn't interested at that point. I just wasn't interested and I knew it. But I thought that I would be given a smoother way to get out of this pick-up. Situation. So I tell him my name. He tells me his. "Michael."

I smile. I have to admit, I am in a smiley mood. I think I'm getting a nice job and the weather is beautiful. Then it comes--it is either a beautifully inspired line or he has worked on female psychology for ages:

"You are a strong woman. I need a strong woman in my life."

"I have my own life," I tell him.

"What?" he asks.

"I have my own life," I say clearly, smiling really big because I like being called strong, I am happy that he wants a strong woman, and bemused that I appeared strong because a toddler could rock that mailbox-resembling-thing. As I walked across the street and he walked down the other side, I reflected that he might have meant that I was a strong person--not that I, a lithe white girl, would be lifting large, heavy objects anytime soon. My footfalls finally felt like they belonged in this neighborhood. Like they were respected. And admired.