The Most Beautiful Creole Man

Today I saw the most beautiful Creole man I’d ever met. I was at a Pacific Islanders event, my first. He was working at a Filipino stall.

He had the most astounding bone structure. The jawline, the cheekbones. And OMG the most beautiful, mesmerizing eyes, pale blue and awe-inspiring, juxtaposed against his warm skin tone — there were no words.

Yet he was devoid of joy. The way he uttered “Aloha” and “Mahalo”, it was as if his soul was emptied out. He wasn’t there. He wasn’t connecting.

When I encounter someone like that I always wonder, Who has hurt you? And my old self would try to fix it.

I wanted to slip him a note which would read:

I am not coming on to you. But you’ve got the most beautiful eyes.

Really they were like the entire universe. And then some.

Later I noticed that he was sporting a Space Jam t-shirt, in baby blue, much like his eyes, but paling in comparison and that is an understatement. The former profound and dumbfounding, the latter, a commercial piece of…

Why had he chosen this article of clothing on this day? Did it mean something? Did it not, and perhaps that was the point?

I am drawn to beauty and sadness. Not knowing your own beauty. That is the saddest of all.