Enlaces Ligeros

I’ve never been the kind of guy to try to pick up women with come-on lines, and it was interesting (actually sad and/or funny) to see one in action. Something rarely seen in the wild, like out of a National Geographic special. Except with more blood and gore.

I was on the plane a few hours ago(!). I happened to be sitting next to a very glamorous, well-dressed woman, with whom I’d had some minor interaction as we got seated…just the usual pleasantries. Two-thirds of the way through the flight, I’d been trying (unsuccessfully) to sleep when I heard a man’s voice close by. A fellow from a few rows back, who’d been seated on the opposite side of the plane, was now squatting in the aisle next to my lovely seatmate.

“Here,” he said, holding out a chit of paper to her, “can I give you this?”

“What?” said the woman. “What is this?”

“You look like a nice person [ooh, yes, I'm sure you've judged her 'niceness' merely from watching her walk past you to the lavatory!] and I would like to give you my phone number and address.” Wow, this guy wastes no time, pulls no punches and beats around no bushes.

Her fantastic reply: “For what?” You have to imagine a really strong, contemptuous emphasis on the “what!”

“Um, well…” Long pause. He knows he has a hull breach, now; he’s going down in flames. Oww, it burns! “I guess…for friendship. Can I just leave this with you?” Almost begging, now. Humour him, I’m thinking; take the chit, spare his feelings and throw it out later.

“No, thank you. Goodbye.” Cool, professional, deadly.

“Oh. Okay. Goodbye, then.” And off went poor Sad Sack, back to his seat. He wasn’t a young guy, perhaps in his late thirties or forties, and (sorry to say) not particularly good-looking, either. Not that it would have mattered, in this case. I really felt for him… Well, a bit… Okay, actually I was trying to keep from exploding with laughter. But I did feel a bit of sympathy. It was just so…pathetic. I can’t claim to have never considered doing a similar thing, but my common sense kept me from it (at the time I thought it was cowardice, but it turns out it was common sense masquerading as fear). Seen from the other side, this kind of thing is more than a smidge creepy.

Of course, ironically, the incident gave me an immediate “in” with her. Yay, I could be the “non-creepy guy”! Not that I was looking for an “in”, and indeed I had (unlike our sorry friend) noticed her very obvious wedding band.

“Hey,” I said, sulking. “Why didn’t that guy offer me friendship? You know: his number and address?”

She rolled her eyes and laughed. “I can’t believe some guys! I’m married with three kids, you know.” She pointed to her ring, at which I nodded knowingly.

We went on to have a very nice chat, since any ice had been thoroughly melted by all those flames. I suppose having such “offers” is one of the pitfalls of being a good-looking woman. Or possibly, being any woman. I’d just never witnessed such a blatant and misguided attempt.

So, what do you think? Was this creepy? Funny? Flattering? Or just sad? Yeah, yeah; I’m sure he was actually a really nice guy! And so courageous — doing something like that really takes guts. Er, maybe foolhardy’s the better word. Desperate? I just wanted to take him aside, give him a good shake and say: “Ohhh, no-no-nooooo… That’s just not gonna work. Nooooo, stop… What are you doing?”

Oops, too late.

Am I? I am.
(At home.)
It’s sunny. And September. And nice.
Though different.
From Barcelona. Where it, too, was.
 (Sunny. September. Nice.)
And I’m writing.
 Very.
  Short.
   Sentences.
For. Some. Reason.
Who knows why?
Not I. And who cares?
Not 1. (That’s “one,” not “eye.”
 Nor “aye.”)
And that’s it.
…is it?
Aye! It is.

 - El Jardinero (hoy extra-Zurdo!), in Montreal