So I am lonely and miserable and unhappy, and I am on vacation and somehow unable to relax and enjoy myself, and I hate my skin and I need a shower but I can't summon the will to go take one. So I decide to go for a run, to get away from the constant noise in my mother's house, to work up a sweat that I'll have to shower off, to see if I can outrun some of the noise in my head. I set out. It is South Florida September; it is unbelievably hot and muggy and humid, a humid I forgot even existed, living as I now do in the dry dusty South California desert. It starts to drizzle just as I set foot out the door and I am shocked at how welcome the rain is, how I have missed it, how it feels necessary and cleansing and how I am suddenly fervently hoping for a thunderstorm, something we don't get in L.A. even when we do get rain. I set out. I go a few short blocks, I turn a few corners. I start to sweat, start to breathe heavily, start to walk instead. My thoughts haven't changed; nothing is uplifted. As I near a corner, a car turns in front of me and slows, a beautiful black head pokes out and says hi. I say hi. This sexy face turns out to belong to 25-year-old Akio who chats me up and tries to pick me up. I've told him I'm heading back home to Los Angeles on Tuesday and he asks, twice, if he can see me before then. I say no and I finish up the chat and I hit the road again, but I'm not jogging anymore; I am flying. I set out.
(In all honesty, this is literally The. First. Time. any random hot guy has tried to pick me up. I have good dates, I have good boyfriends, I have good long relationships... but I don't get unsolicited attention in public places. Ever. And I am sure this particular hot guy wouldn't have given me the time of day had anyone else been around, had we been in a bar or something with any typical girls-wearing-makeup in the vicinity, had I even been close enough for him to get a good look at before leaning out the window. But still. Thank you, Akio.)