Iced Chai, Navy Heels, and Pink Shirts

I got hit on by a businessman at the Tully's on 4th and Union this morning, waiting for my iced chai. (Too milky, by the way. The perfect iced chai continues to elude me, and it has not been found at Tully's or Starbucks.) I suppose I looked pretty organized and like I did something important, because I had my laptop case with me, and I was wearing a navy blue suit with a cute skirt that flares out at the end, and the best part of the outfit was of course the shoes, which are 2.5 inch navy heels in a mix of leather and canvas, with an adorable tiny buckle gracing the top. (Some day I will design shoes for a living.) They are the only pair of shoes I have that I am embarrassed to say how much I paid for them, and I will probably never spend that much money on shoes again. But can I just say that they are the most comfortable pair of high heels I've ever worn, and I feel like I could walk around all day in them?

Anyway, I guess I looked like I did something important, and the makeup was on and the hair was perfect. So this businessman and I are waiting for our drinks, and mine came up first, and he struck up a conversation by stating he disliked chai. Now, if I were going to ask someone for their phone number, I probably wouldn't start by insulting their choice of drink. But he seemed to think this strategy was going to work for him, and I did engage in the conversation, because let's be honest, how many times have I been asked out in the last month? (Actually, if we're counting August, it's been twice, including this businessman, and that's not that bad for only having three days so far, is it?) I am trying to be open to whatever the universe is sending my way, so if somebody asks me out, I'm going to say yes, no matter what. Even if my first impression of someone is that I would rather live on a deserted island my whole entire life with no one else around than spend one minute talking to them. So we chatted for a bit, and he asked for my number, which I gave him.

Here's the thing: he was wearing a pink shirt.

Call me fashionably impaired. But I think this might disqualify him from my policy about saying yes to whoever asks me out. The London Independent claims that it's perfectly reasonable for men to wear pink shirts. Real Men Do Wear Pink, 3/28/05 I am having a hard time with this.

I'm all about guys who are in touch with their feminine side. I'm thrilled when a guy wants to sit in a coffee shop and talk for four hours. I think men should get paternity leave, and I love male elementary school teachers.

But I can't stand pink shirts on men. My stomach bottoms out and goes all queasy. I think of all the other colors they could wear that would be so much more flattering, and I wonder who picked it out for them.

I'm clearly very biased about this, and the first step to overcoming bias is acknowledgement, so I'm acknowledging to all that I am prejudiced against pink shirts. But this is one prejudice I don't think I'm getting rid of anytime soon. So if he calls, I'll say yes to a date. But I'll probably sabotage the whole thing by being unable to restrain myself from blurting out that I can't stand pink shirts and he really ought to pick some different colors. Blue, for instance. He had lovely blue eyes.