Aura

Yesterday afternoon while walking my bike down the east side of the Boston Common, I came upon a man with a scruffy chin and long khaki cut-offs, holding a clipboard, smiling, eying me.

Not man of my wildest dreams, no. City-center denizens should know who I'm talking about ... in all seasons, but mostly during the summer tourist swell, it is the street solicitor.

Perhaps a pre-teen selling M&Ms and Hershey bars to purportedly raise money for youth sports programs. A college student for MassPirg, or asking passerby to donate to an environmental group. During election season, the same, to register voters or join the Democratic National Committee.

My nemesis yesterday represented Save the Children, according to his royal blue smock. Because no one was between us, I saw him checking me out from a half-block away. He fixed his glance, summoned the smile, I also saw, and began calling within a quarter-block.

"Hey miss! How you doing today?"

I'm not against what solicitors try to sell, but I dislike being forced to discuss their causes for no other reason than I'm in their line of vision. My policy is to affect a wry look, to show I'm not a total ass, shake my head and say "no, thank you," and keep walking.

Which I did in this case.

But of course, sometimes the wryness is misconstrued and encourages conversation. Which, I'll give kudos to this guy, he picked up on. As I came even with him, he turned and walked alongside me a few steps.

"Now you look like a woman who has this, I don't know, aura," he said.

"Look at how you hold your shoulders back. Like someone who knows what she wants."

Aura? Like a distinctive atmosphere surrounding a given source? An energy field that is held to emanate from a living being?

"Someone who knows what she wants?"

Sweet.

I replied that I thought his aura was also fabulous ... and kept walking. So his organization got no new money from me -- not due to lack of charm from said solicitor -- mostly because my wallet is still out at Logan Airport Lost and Found. (Ha!)

But I thought about his comment for the next couple hours, kind of wishing I thought Mr. Save the Children was telling the truth. That perhaps he knows me better than I think I know myself.