The Walking Man Walks

The other day I was out color-hunting with a client. To color hunt all one needs is a good partner, a good paint deck and a good neighborhood. We had all three. Plus K (less like a client, more like a dear friend. We get off-topic all the time. It's so much fun) has great taste and she's brazen. She's got the gumption I lack. She'll step out of the car to ask a stranger just how they made their arbor or what, exactly, is that color on their house trim. The results have been pleasing. We've met the kindest of people. I love hearing House Histories. Every house has one and when you find an owner who belongs to their house, rather than the other way around, you'll find that they will tell you the most interesting of stories.

This post, however, has nothing to do with houses. Except that it was while color hunting that I met Peter.* K put on the breaks, tires rolling to a stop; the rolling window stopping simultaneously. She leaned over my seat and said...something to this 40-something man (obviously her acquaintance) as he approached the car. The first word that popped into my head: blue. And we're not talking trim colors here. This man had reflecting pools for eyes. So blue they command attention. And you better believe I stood at attention. Sat, actually. Straight up. I took one look into those eyes then couldn't look at them for fear I'd be drawn right in. I fanned out my paint deck, mindlessly flipping to the blues. A possible subconscious attempt to match the hue of Peter's eyes; to make a color memory. They weren't any one color, but every color, breaking all Laws of Chromatics. Scattering. Reflecting. Absorbing. They were inches from me. I couldn't take it!

His voice: melty. His jawline: divine. Then, then there was his hair. Those dark locks, lightly frosted with a few graying strands. The perfect length. The perfect thickness. The perfect texture. (Not that I touched it. But, oh! How touchable it seemed!) At this point, I'm hoping anyone in the audience knows me well enough to know that a) this man really was attractive but/and b) that I love dramatizing every little small detail (Linds, that's a lyrical quiz slash Test of Friendship, if you will). Back to the Walking Man. So he and K are talking and all I'm hearing is "blah, blah, blah" and thinking that this man has got to have some sort of Italian in him. That Roman nose. I couldn't stop fantasizing about those azure pools with depths unknown. I was just about ready to dawn an oxygen tank and dive in when, all conversation stopped. I felt those placid blue eyes shift their gaze and land on me. It was...uncomfortable in the most wonderful sense. His eyes drew my face up and before I knew it, blue locked with brown as Gavin looked at me. He said, "I'm sorry (touching my arm and pausing) I was talking, then all of a sudden I looked at you and I thought, 'Wow, she is beautiful!' You are beautiful!" Come again? (I didn't say that to him, but I was thinking it). I said a very bashful "thank you," and out fanned the paint deck again. This time, I was mindlessly manning the red zone, trying to match the pink shade of my cheeks. Pink indeed! I felt them flush in mere milliseconds. As I was dopely doing so, I shrugged my shoulders and thought, "Well, I'm good. Good for life. Drive on, K. Drive on!" Honestly I am. Good for life, I mean. A compliment like that from a man like that? That, my friends, is something I can go off of forever. When I rejoined the scene, Peter and K were back to their gabbing. Something about children on the playground not getting along. Grown-up stuff...trailing...trailing...

A few moments later, K was summing-up salutations, and we were off. I managed a "Nice to meet you." His reply, "Really. You're gorgeous." I think I melted right into the seat as we drove away. "Okay, so he's like McDreamy with an under-bite!" came the comment from K's seat. I was still off in Lah-Lah Land, but agreed emphatically. I was so undone by his eyes and hair, I didn't even get to his teeth.

And, just like that, K's my favorite client and I'll go color hunting with her any day!


*This is not his real name. His name has been changed to protect his attractiveness. Or something. I asked M what a good-looking man in his early 40's would be named and she said "Peter," so Peter it is.