JessicaRulestheUniverse.com

Because I used to be on TV, I may be described as “semi-famous”. Semi-famous means total strangers sort of recognize you, but they don’t know why or from where.

Recently I was sort-of-recognized twice on the same day in Greenbelt 4 (Note: I don’t shop at Greenbelt 4, but they have a nice washroom. Mostly I get dragged along by a friend who loves handbags. My role is to point out how many bags he already has and ask, “Is this a midlife crisis?” I cannot make a judgment on the merchandise itself as it would qualify as sour grapes.) A woman stopped in mid-stride and cried, “I know you!” I said, “Hello,” because I’ve learned that if you say, “No you don’t,” even if it’s a statement of fact, people regard it as hostile. She said, “Did I see you on TV? Were you on a show?” There was something odd about her—she was a bit too enthusiastic. Oh, and she looked to be in her 40s but she had no teeth.

“Yes,” I said, “But not anymore.” Then she stepped right in my path and started asking questions. What was the show, who were those people, what happened to that guy, what day was it on, lots of questions. At one point she tried to put her hand on my arm, which caused me to jump back three feet because I can’t abide touchy-feeliness. I answered her questions and made my getaway as fast as I could.

That same afternoon Chus and I were leaving a store as an extremely tall man was walking in. Right outside the store we were accosted by a guy in his 20s, cute, Chus’s type. He literally jumped in our path. “What’s the name of that guy?” he said in high excitement. “That basketball player who just went in?” Chus and I shrugged, we don’t follow basketball. “Hey, I know you, you’re a TV personality!” the guy cried. “Can I have your numbers?”

“No,” we chorused. The guy handed out his business card. “Email addresses?” So we wrote them on the brown envelope he was holding. “If you’re trying to sell condos, I’m not interested,” I said. “What about land?” he cried. “Nope,” I said, although Chus looked like he was assessing his feelings about real estate.

When Mr. Enthusiastic had bounced off, Chus and I discussed the incident. “You realize that if he were ugly, we would’ve fled instantly?” We agreed that looks matter, not that it was ever in doubt, and attractive people have an unfair genetic advantage. A toothless, hyper middle-aged female stranger asks you a lot of questions, and you find her odd. A cute, hyper young male stranger asks a lot of questions, and you find him amusing. We’re shallow.
Ironically the archaic definition of “cute” was “short, cross-eyed, and bowlegged”.