Two weeks ago as I browsed the bagel section of a local bakery,
a gorgeous employee stood beside me hand-vacuuming some
shelves.
Two weeks ago as I browsed the bagel section of a local bakery, a gorgeous employee stood beside me hand-vacuuming some shelves.
Usually when I see an engaging stranger, I’ll make eye contact and do no more – like most men. But I remembered from previous visits to the bakery that this clerk always offered the most genuine greetings to customers, myself included. I never saw her without a smile.
One day I decided to make conversation.
“So they make you vacuum the wood here, huh?” I asked with a smile.
I should have kept my mouth shut and settled for the standard eye contact. She turned and paused before answering my moronic question.
“Yeah… I have to get all the particles in between the cracks,” she said, referring to the wood’s dust, her face branded with “This guy’s a dweeb.”
The conversation died instantly, as if I was flirting with someone and suddenly realized we were cousins.
Walking away, I smiled and thought to myself: That may have been the most idiotic thing I’ve ever said to a woman. Did I really just remark about vacuuming wood? I did, regrettably.
Attractions to random strangers can be frustrating for men and women. But I’m a man, so I can offer only that perspective. And I’m bad at approaching women, so I represent the vast majority of men.
The following example, with me in the lead role, illustrates a man’s thought process before potentially approaching a woman.
So I’m shopping at Target for some shampoo and a cute brunette walks into the aisle. Our eyes connect, but only for a moment. She plays it cool and continues to admire the selection of shampoos and conditioners.
I play it cool and also pretend to analyze the shampoo, while really thinking to myself: “What can I say to get her attention? Come on, you idiot! Think of something! Think, think, think!”
Of course I say nothing. And she eventually walks to the feminine hygiene aisle, where I have no business. So I walk back to the sports department.
Somebody with the charisma of, say, Cary Grant, would smile, somehow compliment her attire, make a bold sexual pass… and still send goose bumps trickling down her arms.
But normal men, we don’t have the poise to say, “What shampoo do you recommend? You’ve got really nice-looking hair.”
Pretend that could sound elegant.
Unfortunately, the difference between corny and charming is frightfully small. And most men – myself included – would sound more like Bobcat Golthwaith than Cary Grant.
Fitness centers especially illustrate this quandary of the sexes. There’s more flirtatious eye contact at one gym than three Hollister bars combined.
While in high school in suburban Wisconsin, visits to the YMCA truly tortured me. Every day, surrounded by a swarm of cute girls from other schools, yet I never initiated conversation. To this day, I am still ashamed. So much eye contact and so little to say.
Really, though, what can a man say to a woman on the next treadmill without sounding desperate? Most women don’t want their routine interrupted to hear some knucklehead ask, “Uhhh, do you come here often?”
Ultimately, this is why people meet on the Internet. Those folks gave up on face-to-face meetings.
Millions of men thought to themselves, “Screw it. If the woman on the Internet rejects me, I can burp at the computer screen and move on to the next lucky lady.”
Millions of women thought to themselves, “Screw it.” Beyond that, I have no clue.
On the Internet, people can say hello to strangers 2,000 miles away without worrying about rejection or saying something stupid, such as, “Did you ever see the movie ‘Waterworld,’ where Kevin Costner urinates into a filter machine and recycles it to drink again?”
Not my proudest moment.
On the Internet, men can sit slouched at the computer, flipping TV channels from ESPN to ESPN2 while proclaiming undying love… all while sipping cheap beer between instant messages.
Although I have nothing against the Web, I still prefer traditional methods of meeting people. Even if I occasionally look like a doofus.
But why, oh why, did I ask about vacuuming those wooden bagel racks?
