Breaking the Ice

This past winter, I was nearly flattened by a three by five foot piece of falling ice. It became dislodged from the roof and came crashing to the ground only inches away as I was entering a Barnes & Noble. …Just another one of God’s reminders that he can take me out at any second. An attractive redhead, several yards away, witnessed my near demise and exclaimed, “Oh my God! That would have hurt.”

My response was to hold out my palm and make an expression as if I was thinking, “Is it about to rain?” Either she missed it, or the humour was lost on her because instead of starting a conversation in which we would have discovered that we both love Star Wars, own every Prince album, and have compatible star signs… she continued into the store and disappeared among the fiction best sellers.

That was not an isolated event. Often, I have problems coming up with witty retorts… particularly when I’m talking to attractive ladies… or when deities are hurling chunks of shit at me. I have been returning to the Barnes & Noble everyday for the last few months, hoping to bump into the redhead again. My plan was to make a case for my non-verbal conversation starter. If my argument fails to sway her, I will insist she allow me to substitute a verbal alternative that is, at least, on par with the funniness level of my impromptu mime. So far, I’ve had no luck meeting her again for a rematch. However, I now own more books than my local public library… proving that behind every cloud, there’s a rainbow… or a lightning bolt… or a space vessel, operated by a race of aliens bent on Earth’s total annihilation… so, it’s all good.

The other day, I was standing in front of a bar with a few of my supervisors. A waitress brought us out some water, uttered something beyond my ear shot, paused for a moment, and then walked back inside the bar. Let it not be said that my bosses don’t also dabble in mime, because they were all staring at me, as if they were thinking, “What the fuck!” But then, in unison, they broke character and shouted, “What the fuck!” Lieutenant Ovechkin added, “No wonder you’re a virgin!”

Okay…

1) That outburst was not called for.

2) I am, totally, not a virgin. And…

3) That incident should not count against me as a missed opportunity.

I couldn’t hear her! I don’t even think she was talking to me!

Several days later, Lt. Ovechkin deduced that I author this blog, cementing his belief that I’ve never felt the pleasure of a woman’s company… and proving that God can also use embarrassment as an implement for one’s destruction.

Comments

[Leah]

From your description of events, I don't think you missed out on an opportunity with the waitress. I mean, if you had jumped across the bar to speak to her she might have thought you were being way too fresh. It can always work two ways.

And I enjoy your daily trips to Barnes & Noble. I did that once with a guy I met briefly at a bar. I kept going back hoping to find him again...and never did. I eventually met a guy that looked very similar to him and went out with him for a few weeks. It didn't work out...oh well. Have you thought about doing a Craigslist missed connection? It worked for me once.

[Deadpan]

It is possible the redhead didn't laugh at your pantomime because, by holding out your hand and not replying, you may have given the impression you were a deaf-mute begging for change.