When I walked in the room there were only a few occupied
tables, but she caught my attention right away. Deep brown eyes, short dark hair that was spiky and tinted with
burgundy streaks. Arms full of bracelets and a tad too much blush on cheekbones that didn't benefit from the
indulgence. I must have gone
from glance to stare because she rolled her eyes with
disdain and turned her attention toward the wall. More accurately, toward a place on the wall that did not include a window or a plant. I bet she wished there was "something" there. It was clear I was not her type and equally true that I was now
smitten. Her posture said
gotheheckaway .
My mind heard:
Hey big Fella, how are you?
Whether it is the love of the challenge or a perverse need for rejection, but instant disinterest is always the best perfume. It makes the entire exercise more about finesse than animal magnetism, and that is certainly more my speed. If our conversation was going to last more than a few seconds it was up to me to be either charming, hilarious or both.
I stepped up to her table and asked her question number 1:
"Is that wall taken?"
Do what? her pouty lips set into a growl,
How nice ! I thought.
"I mean, is that seat taken, I was looking at the wall to see what you were looking at just then. "
A blank look, probably because she was surprised that I was still standing there and with no idea what the heck I was talking about. (She looked stunned, which was, of course, the idea).
"You were looking at the wall a moment ago, I didn't know if there was something you could see there or not."
Now, question number 2: "Do you have an eye for detail?" (It was such a leading question- who is going to deny they are perceptive and smart- nobody, that's who.)
Ah, (a brief stammer, a few bricks were falling off the top of the wall) well, yes I well, I was looking at the chair rail. I, yes, yes I used to work in a furniture store.
I pulled the chair next to her away from the table, but did not sit down- there was no need to hurry now.
"Really? What type of work? Modern or classical? I have a friend who makes his own mahogany tables. "
She turned both her shoulders towards me and slid her quite attractive knees out from under the table so she was facing the chair I was supposed to sit in.
Really? That is impressive- you don't look like the woodworking type. (A little snide, sure, but she was smiling while she said it and then leaned her head to the side- she was testing the water with one toe)
"No, no, I'm not but I appreciate good furniture. I have a grandfather clock that I bought from my Uncle-19th century- original brass works still ticking. Those things are classics, and hard to find as well. " Pause
By then I was pointing to the chair, "May I?"
Sure, she said, and moved the back of her hand
across her brow, as if there were bangs there. Bingo.
Some have asked why people climb mountains. The answer is simple: because they are there.