Yesterday I was out walking in the park for a bit, something I do often – coffee in hand, walking the pooch. Suddenly from behind I hear a firm accented voice, a woman asking if it was ok for her dog to approach my little old thing. I said absolutely. So anyhow the two little old things stood together, gazing into nothingness like a couple of old compadres. So of course the small talk begins with this woman, she was beautiful with perfect skin ashamed to say she was 62, this was unsolicited trivia by the way, not entirely sure why she felt the need to tell me. She talked and kept staring at my right arm. My entirely tattooed right arm which tells over two decades worth of stories and tales. I thought here we go, I can see what’s coming next, the common why do you have those and/or what do they mean which always launches into some sort of auto play verbiage from my end. Well, it didn’t happen. I thought wow, that’s unusual.
She stood there and asked if she could ‘feel me’. Yes, her words, feel me. What? You want to feel me? She said yes. I thought ok. She gently rubbed my forearm, hover crafting each outline. She explained finally that the tattoos reminded her of a long line of missed relatives she had back in her home country of Thailand who were apparently tattooed from head to toe. The softness was silky, similar to blankets she would sleep with as a child. Then she pulled away, it was all she needed. She thanked me. I thought wow, where’s that ‘like’ button when you need it? The small talk led me to ask her a bit about herself, she owns a line of high end spas sprinkled here and there locally and provincially. Explained a lot, her bedazzled fingers decorated with thick metals and large rocks, designer shoes and an overall joie de vivre. I took that opportunity to network and take that connection one step further by asking if I could place some of my adverts in some of her salons. Her clients are a slice of my target. She said absolutely. We’ll be in touch. The 5 minute arm rub went a long way.