Love Trips: Super Star Beggars
One day I’m going to follow the Train Super Star Beggars. You know the ones I’m talking about. Those train performers that work straphangers with their pleas and dazzle us with their commitment to get our dollars. They manage to be on every train, all day and all night. Its like they’re superheroes!
In order of least popular to most popular, the Train Super Star Beggars include: the little boys with tattered t-shirts but fresh kicks that robotically state: “Ladies and gentleman, my name is Tyquan/Tyron/Tyrese and I am selling candy to raise money for my basketball team.”; the skinny, toothless morenito, viejito who sings “Lean back, lean back, lean back!” all while leaning back as if working a limbo stick: and my all time favorite, the three brothers (or that’s what I tell myself) that hop onto the train and hippity hop their way into my heart. House song on. Older brother kicks, drops to the floor and freezes into a b-boy pose. Middle brother smacks older bros hand, jumps in and all of a sudden we see the main star.
(Rolling down the train like a human wheel.) “Go Tito! Go Tito! Go Tito!”
Then, cute little Tito pulls out his baseball cap and asks for money.
My fascination with these entertainers is simple. They all have penises, and I am fascinated with the inner workings of anyone attached to a penis. They are all really good at getting what they want. Their persuasive skills remind me of Elijah’s.
Take Tyquan/Tyron/Tyrese. Just like they weave between train passengers with an enticing box of peanut M&Ms and Reese’s Peanut Butter Cups, Elijah enticed me with an Inbox full of sweet text messages. He also had the same flexibility as the skinny, toothless morenito, viejito. Elijah constantly tried to rearrange dates, spoke of taking weekends off work, and switching shifts just to see me. But that had yet to occur. After five months of dulce flexibility, I was as dizzy as if I had spun down the train aisle with Tito. The experience was confusing, frustrating, and I needed clarity.
I picked up my cell and called Elijah. Ring! Ring! Ring! No answer. My phone then beeped. A text from Elijah stating he was at work and couldn’t pick up the phone. But I didn’t care if he was at work; I wanted what I wanted. So I replied:
“I need to know where this is going. It’s been over four months since we decided to see what there is between us and I still haven’t seen you.”
My phone beeped again. My shoulders clenched with tension as I clicked the steal, rolling ball of my Blackberry.
“It’s not because I don’t want to. I want to see you.” he responded.
My shoulders loosened, returning to their natural state. He does want to see me, I thought, calmness flowing through me. But wait. Hasn’t he been saying this since January? I returned to the text and typed quickly but thoroughly. I clicked on the steel ball roughly and as angry as Tyquan/Tyron/Tyrese would if people tried to shortchange them. Well, I wasn’t giving away my peanut butter cups for free either!
“I need to know what you want from me. What this is. Until I do, I won’t be making any plans to visit, send sexy pics for text sex or anything else,” I demanded.
“I want to go with the flow. We haven’t seen each other for three years. Why don’t we just have fun and see what happens?” he replied casually.
Fuuuuuun?! I’ve spend months putting on my best performance of patient, understanding Sujeiry and he just wants to have fuuuuun?! I reread the text. Chest puffing in fury. Then there was another beep.
“Listen babe, we need to live our relationship in the present not the past. We need to start fresh,” he text again. I paused, reflecting on his last words. So convincing, so logical, so….right.
And that’s when it happened. Elijah’s persuasive words unleashed my Train Super Star Beggar. It brimmed to the surface and I reacted as these needy superheroes do day in and day out. In order of least pathetic to most pathetic, I: excused Elijah from any responsibility and robotically stated, “You’re right. We should go with the flow”; leaned back to catch the perfect light from my kitchen window and snapped a sexy picture of me to text to Elijah; and the most pathetic of all, I danced around my bedroom because Elijah’s words had hippity hopped their way into my heart. Rockstar song on. Hips sway, leg kicks, and I freeze to take a second sexy phone picture of me. I raise and clap my hands, and all of a sudden I am the main star.
(Naively twirling in place like a human wheel). “Go Sujeiry! Go Sujeiry! Go Sujeiry!” Not.