What makes strangers talk to each other sometimes?
It's a pertinent question to ask oneself as I'm sitting in The Timberyard creative workspace, directly across from a very attractive member of the opposite sex who has yet to look at me even once.
Think, brain. Think. Ok, let's start with using my not-inconsequential powers of observation:
- No wedding ring. Good start.
- A fellow tea drinker. Excellent.
- Working intently at a laptop in a workspace on a Sunday afternoon. That's me too, with the possible exception of the "intently" part. (But that's more his fault for distracting me.)
- Casual outfit, slightly disheveled hair. Niiiiice.
- Here by himself. Could we BE more perfect for one another?!
Now let's run through some potential pick-up lines:
- "Come here often?" Too obvious.
- "Oh, I see you're using an HP..." Bad start. Nowhere to go from there. I don't know enough about computers.
- "May I freshen your tea?" What, do I work here now?
- "Could you watch my stuff for a second?" Makes literally no sense when there are three other people seated closer to me and thus in a better position to ask.
- "Are you Irish?" I know that's a random question, but he looks Irish.
- "Don't I know you from somewhere?" Where, though? Where??? It's not like I went to Middle School in Ireland.
- "I like your shirt." But...it's a pretty normal shirt. Who crosses the room to tell someone that?
- "Hi, my name's Joëlle, and I'd like to buy you a drink." Way too bold for the likes of me.
- "Coffee? Tea? Me?" 'Cause maybe he'd take pity on me for trying?
- "What do you think about girls asking guys out? I'm taking a poll." Cheeeeeesy.
There's also absolutely nowhere to sit near him, so I'd have to awkwardly hover over his low-to-the-ground armchair. No, much safer to sit way over here stealing glances and grinding my teeth. Arghhhhhh.
There must be other options. I could spill a drink on him. I could cause a scene. I could fake a medical emergency to see if he'd rush over to help. Maybe he's a doctor. Or a pharmaceutical sales rep. "I've got just the drug for you!" he would cry, thus beginning a story we'd recount at our (small, tasteful) wedding.
Or I could sit here, reassuring myself that if he WERE The One, surely he'd be eyeing me up and down too?
And other similar excuses. After all, nothing good ever came of taking chances, right?