Kissing Kamal

I was at a friend’s party having a good time when I started talking to a fine brother we’ll call “Marcel.”

Marcel was every bit of handsome: smooth chocolaty skin, great eyes, a muscular body that said, “I work out but I’m not too vain to have a little grown man weight.”  All in all, Marcel was a definite candidate to be an Idris (read here).

Marcel had me immediately intrigued.  This man didn’t need to spit game because he had a confidence and ease in his voice that pulled you in.  Moreover he could talk, and I love it when men can “conversate” on topics out of the ordinary.

Eventually, we got to the question of “what do you do” and Marcel said, “I work out at the airport.”

“Okay” I said, as visions of kiosks and salty soft pretzels danced in my head.  And he said it so matter-of-factly; like there was nothing wrong with a mid 30’s brother working this kind of job and having no other hustle going on.

I thought for a minute and surmised that I possibly heard wrong.  Trying not to be too pushy, I asked Marcel what he actually did out at the airport.  “Oh, I work for [Blah Blah]” he said, which is one of those stores that you see in airports everywhere, and immediately moved on to another topic of conversation.

I let it go and just went with the conversation.  He was such a great conversationalist, all the while pulling me in with his smile and nice eyes.  Marcel got us another drink (such a gentleman too) and we talked a little while longer.  Marcel knew that I came to the party with a date, and while he was very cool in letting me know that he liked me, he was never disrespectful of my date or me.

Later on, I mentioned my encounter with Marcel to a friend, and I talked about how much of a good catch he was despite his working at the airport.  My friend looked at me and laughed.  “Kamal, Marcel works at the airport but not in the way you think,” said my friend.  Apparently, the company that owns those shops you see at every airport has its headquarters at the local airport, and Marcel is in charge of the company’s shops; every last single one.

My point behind all of this is that when you date a man, you date him and not his job, career, or status.  Marcel is a pretty cool cat because he didn’t feel the need to clarify the state of his career, as he didn’t consider it an important factor in us getting to know each other.  And if we’re being honest, what a man legally does to earn a paycheck shouldn’t matter.

Most of us are either “living for the weekend” or sneaking out to two hour lunches when the boss is away, so if a guy is serving burgers and fries or serving court papers in a high-stakes lawsuit, none of that matters so long as he loves you and treats you right.