rags to riches

Today, I think I may have stumbled upon an untapped male source.  Perhaps I should just say, untapped to me.  What I’m about to say may surprise you, but I feel like it could be a stroke of genius.

Homeless people.  Hear me out.
I was in a deli/convenience store just off of Tompkin’s Square Park when I saw him.  He was tall, dark, and handsome.  His eyes were deep and mysterious.  He was just the right amount of scruffy.  And he had dreadlocks.  Probably anyone who knows me well will say, “she feels pretty good about dreadlocks.”  Maybe even “excellent.”  I had a Jamaican boyfriend for three days who had amazing dreadlocks, which he stored in an oversized hat.  Ever since then, or maybe it was ever since camp, I’ve had a bit of a thing for dreads.
Now, this attractive man, who I would only consider to be mildly homeless (Mom, don’t worry!), was checking me out, probably thinking something like, oooo, she looks clean.

Now, let me describe what I mean by mildly homeless.  He looked like the kind of guy who was a bit down on his luck, perhaps, he crashes a lot of nights on friends’ floors.  Maybe a night here or there in a shelter.  But, let’s not go on and on, it appeared to me there was no street sleeping involved.  He looked like he had showered more recently than not.  And dare I say, he definitely looked like he had graduated high school.  Maybe even college.  Or maybe he just had a library card, how very Good Will Hunting. When I saw him, he was talking to another man, who appeared to take his homeless lifestyle a little more seriously.  They were taking a stroll to the nearest church, perhaps to grab a bowl of soup.

Anyway, back to my argument, I could help this attractive man out.  Provide him with a stylish pair of jeans and some white shirts.  Maybe some Chucks, even.  Give him a shower.  And perhaps a hat.  He wouldn’t look homeless then, would he?  His teeth were still in great shape, and I don’t think he was on heroin.
Here is the most important part: after I got him spruced up, he would have to love me.  WOULDN’T HE?  And I would love him because, yay!  Project!  Also, I’d be proud… like, doesn’t he look just amazing?  Think comparatively!  This is not to say I would tell him where my piggy bank is.  Or really even trust him alone in my apartment.  I might even be scared he would make off with my laptop through the window and down the fire escape while we were supposed to be sleeping.
But this might just really be about the small things.  I could probably get away with less shaving of my legs.  I’m sure sweatpants wouldn’t bother him.  Or really even my hair-with-a-mind-of-it’s-own.  Also, I wouldn’t have too much competition, except really for other homeless women.  And I’m pretty sure I’m hotter than most of them.  Also, I wouldn’t have to worry so much about looking crazy.  Because a lot of the crazy people in the city are homeless.  So, my crazy would seem a lot less crazy.  It might even be adorable to a homeless guy.

It worked in Curly Sue, so why not in real life, too?

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