My "Man Hands"?

Last night I worked at a wedding in North Philly at a church. The service and the reception were both in the church, which means that the party was in the cafeteria. Very romantic. I feel lucky again to have had a hard working staff, though it was a hard set up and break down, the party itself was a pretty simple buffet.

There were three people who work for the church at the event:

• Mr. Security Guard (who must have brought his own flask, because our bar did not serve him, yet he was completely toasted, enough so to put his arm around me and speak to my cleavage)
• Non-descript-Temple-MBA-Student Facilities Manager (who was fairly unhelpful, and did not, in fact, know how to manage the facilities)
• Ray Liotta Look-alike (who was wearing a gray and white tracksuit and had a bad haircut that was too long)

I know that it seems that I am a bit critical of these people, but hey, that's me being honest.
Mr. Security Guard at least knew how to work the lights and refridgerator. Temple MBA and Ray Liotta's redeeming quality was that they helped us bring up the tables and chairs. Also, Ray Liotta called several cabs for guests who had come in from hotels in the city. Here is the problem with Ray Liotta:

After several short, work-related conversations (how do I turn off the stage lights, where is the switch for the hallway light, where do I put the tables, someone needs a cab, etc.), he found me sitting while filling out the paperwork, and told me that I am beautiful and am I mixed, because he is mixed Korean and Italian, and I look mixed. These questions always make me feel a bit funny. I responded in the affirmative, yes, I am mixed Chinese and Mexican. He found this very interesting and asked me if I knew my parents, assuming that I am adopted, and I was taken aback, so I responded that I had lived with them, they are my parents. He understood, and said that he was adopted. We then had to mop the floor and move some tables, so the conversation was put on hold. It resumed just as I was about to leave with Helen, Helen the Hard Worker, when he called me over and asked if I had a boyfriend, and could he have my number. I thought about this for a split second and quickly replied "I don't know."

I don't know? What does that even mean. Well, he also was unsure of what that meant, so he asked again if I would give him my number, and I said I don't think so. He said that he understood, and that it was nice to meet me, and that he hopes he runs into me someday.

What was that about? I found him interesting looking -- Ray Liotta with a Korean wash. The hair was pretty unflattering, but not so bad that it would actually turn me away. The track suit in general does not make a good impression on me, especially when in one's place of business, and when in view of a wedding, but also not enough to turn me away completely. In the end, I realize this time and time again, I am unattracted by people who find me physically attractive without having known my personality. I think this is partly because I really hate the feeling of being rejected or having a relationship fizzle after getting to know me personally. I am so much more comfortable being rejected physically than for who I am on the inside. This is why I expect such loyalty and reliability from people who last in my life. If they were going to reject me, they should have rejected me in the beginning, when things were shallow or not yet intimate, not after we have become friends.

My version of Jerry's "man hands" is someone who expresses their physical attraction to me before being attracted to Me.

P. S. Happy Mother's Day