Letter To The Green-Shorts-Pool-Boy

Today I went for a swim.  Here’s the note I should have left behind on my way out.

Envelope addressed to: Young Man with Neon Green Trunks and Too Much Cologne

Dear Young Man with Neon Green Trunks and Too Much Cologne,

I’m very glad to see that you have discovered the pool as a way to cool off in the middle of the day.  However, I don’t think you should also use the pool to try and heat up your love life.

I swam in the lane next to yours  because there was a contingent of fat hairy men in the middle and at the other side, not because I was putting myself out there for you to gawp at me or sweet-talk me.  I thought the fact that I said hello brusquely and swam away at killer shark speed dispelled any notions of flirtation on my part.  Also, please note that your cologne was so overpowering that I’d rather inhale chlorine than your brand of smelly stank (hence my instant underwater immersion).

I appreciate your concerted efforts at making eye contact with me while I turned around at the end of the pool and hit the chronometer on my watch, but I really didn’t appreciate being asked the time three times when you could CLEARLY see the clock over my head.  That’s when your cover was truly blown.

Now, I understand that you may not be a hardcore swimmer, but if you have splashed across just twice by the time I’ve done fifteen laps, I think you may want to re-evaluate your exercise routine and weigh it against the sunburn you’re getting and the chlorine you’re soaking in just standing there, staring at the lady/ies.

However, all that is small change and gentle advice.

What I most definitely mind is being stopped and asked how I ” swim so.” I do it by SWIMMING– first a little, then gradually a lot, but always more than you.  That’s the best answer you’re getting after your gawpfest.

And, when I start to swim away, what part of my dashing off underwater gives you the impression that I want to chat about what’s my name (um, Ana or Betty or Refrigerator to you/I don’t care), where I’m from (Puerto Rico/where men get my not-so-subtle-hints), or how you don’t “habla espanol” (too bad–sign up for Spanish classes along with the swim ones you obviously need)?  Or that I want you to flag me down going “hey, hey”  as I swim off?  I truly don’t appreciate stopping just to tell you to leave me be.

Child, you need to go back to kindergarten (and re-learn lessons of general politeness, such as not yelling “hey” or staring at girls) and to high-school (and re-learn lessons about how girls rebuff boys and mean it).

You may also wish to read a few women’s magazines to appreciate no woman ever heads to a bar to pick up men wearing a grey swim tankini, black cap, and goggles.  Take note:  we don’t wear it to the pool to get picked up, either. So cease and desist.

And, while we’re on the subject of how hideous I feel in my swim getup, might I add that said getup makes guessing my age impossible?  Boy, I bet you I’m old enough to be your (ultra-young) teenage mom, and you need quit staring at me already.

I’ll take the fact that you hightailed it out of the pool when I told you off as a sign that your pool time was over, and not as a sign that you had no reason to be there in the first place.  I’m just charitable like that today.

So, next time, please wash off your cologne before polluting my water and please leave your chick magnet in the locker-room, because you ain’t pulling me.

And don’t be offended if I don’t say hello back–I just know better now.

Most sincerely,

The Girl Whose Swim and ‘Tude Kicked Your Ass Today

Signed, sealed, but yet to be delivered…


See?  Eat as much fruity vitamin C as me today and I think you’d be full of swing in your step and lippiness too:

Breakfast was leftover oatmeal banana pancakes, starfruit-topped and grapefruit friending on the plate (in other words, Sunday’s breakfast).

And, post young-man-tellings-off, I had some delectable black bean and citrus salad on lettuce and tomatoes for lunch.

As for dinner and its picture… I could lie and say that the camera ate my picture, but the truth is I ate my dinner while watching some Law and Order: SVU marathon, which turns me into a bumbling moron and made me forget to take the picture.  It was yesterday’s spinach potato soup with a grilled ham and tomato sandwich (and you’ve seen the very tasty soup before).

I almost left off the outfit posting today, because you’ve seen this combo a lot recently and though I like it, I’m getting fairly bored of it (and of the whole white-blouse-embellished-somehow thing I’ve got going lately).

Let this be a warning for when I next go clearance-raiding and I’m tempted to buy two of each:  don’t.  I’ll get sick of it. However, I’ll still share.  Perennial black skirt is from Marshall’s boutique in Puerto Rico, striped shirt from Kohl’s (probably $7 US), cardigan from New Look in Britain (10 UKP), shoes from my dear Target ($15, I think?).  Go on, tell me to go shopping.  No wonder I’m happier lately in my housebum getup:

Yep.  Just sayin’.

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