Choose Mode

Hereafter, each time I use the word "choose" in this post, I'm referring to the act of being visually vigilant and "on the lookout" for someone you may potentially entertain romantically, sometime in the near or distant future. At least, that's how I would define the idea.
No use of slanguage would be complete without an authentic Urban Dictionary definition listed, so here it is: choose - "what Puerto Ricans wear on their feet."

E.g. "'Ey mang! Check out my new pair of choose!"

Okay, that's terrible and completely unrelated, but I couldn't resist.

So back to my topic.

I'm very aware of the fact that at any given public moment, someone is likely watching me. Whether it's intentional or not, whether they know me personally or not, chances are I've got a random a pair of eyes glancing at my person and (sub)consciously making assumptions about it. How I carry myself, if I look angry or happy, my posture, etc... I know this because it's exactly what I do. As someone who was taught to be constantly aware of her surroundings, observing people in my somewhat immediate proximity is a rational habit.
That being said, there's a clear difference between observing and choosing. I might make eye contact with the lonely-looking guy at the bar, so that he knows I'm aware of his presence and would be able to give an accurate description to the police should I need to file a report for any reason. Howwwwwever, just because I make eye contact with you, does not mean I think you're someone I may potentially entertain romantically, A.K.A. choose. In fact, I probably didn't notice we shared a sizzling eye-contacty moment. You're probably just another face in the crowd, who I would be able to accurately describe to the police, should I need to file a report for any reason. I watched too much Law & Order: SVU as a youngster.
Which brings me to the reason for this post. I'm pretty sure I unknowingly had one of those sizzling moments this past weekend, while I was out to lunch with a couple friends. Just as I was leaving the restaurant, our waitress hands me a piece of paper (pictured below) from some kind white gentleman who had just left, and it caught me completely off guard.

I hadn't even showered for the day yet. I just woke up, threw on some clothes and headed out the door to take care of a few things. I hardly felt presentable, let alone choose-able. So the fact that I had landed a set digits left me with loads of questions.

What did he look like?  

Had he been watching me eat pizza the whole time?  

Did he hear my embarrassingly loud & over-the-top laugh? I'm sure I let out a few of those.  

Why didn't he just come to the table? Did I seem intimidating? Am I intimidating? Are black women intimidating? Are we scarier to approach for caucasian persuasion? 

Did he just not want to interrupt my friends and I?

After soliciting the opinion of a few close friends, I decided against calling the number. Although, that likely means I'll never get the answers to these questions. Maybe someone will read this and be able to answer some of them on his behalf.

The moral of this story, SINGLE PEOPLE, is to always be in choose mode, because you never know who's leaving their phone number for you with the waitress.

Seriously, though... we're not intimidating, right?

♥