for some reason, i tend to get hit on by cab drivers a lot. (perhaps because i'm chatty?) one driver in particular stands out in memory.
the man was probably in his late forties. he was large overall: big hands, tall, hulking. he spoke with a thick, eastern european accent, at length, about everything that popped into his head.
after we drove by a couple young, thin, otherwise attractive girls on the sidewalk, he suddenly launched into a surprising rant about women.
"women. look at these women. they are barbie girls. they are too much like plastic. they are only interested in money. they only want to look pretty so they can find men who are rich. they only care about how they look. they do not know you can buy such women for $20 around the corner. they have only how they look. that is nothing."
he went on to explain that he has a girlfriend.
"she is not a thin woman," he says, "but she is a great cook. she is my partner. she is funny. she is a real woman."
at this point, i realize that he is telling me this because:
a. i am clearly not a barbie girl, and
b. also, just maybe, he has some chip on his shoulder about pretty women with nice bodies.
"these barbie girls, they are just for show. barbie girls do not know how to cook. barbie girls don't do the dishes."
when we arrived at my destination, he turned to me and said, "you laugh. you have a good laugh. do you have a boyfriend?"
"yes," i replied.
"because you are the type of woman who i would like to be with."
i understood that in his head, he was being kind and flattering. but i also understood that he had just told me i'm not a barbie girl, and i am probably happy to have a man to clean house for.
and all i could think was, "he should see the dishes piled in my sink."