When you live the life of a hermit, communication skills generally become rather rudimentary. Mine usually ride the range of technology. I feel safe in the world of black and white blinking cursors. There, things are black and white. What I write is what I mean. If there is a suggestion of something deeper, it can be uncovered in the permanent pages. Face to face conversations, and (god forbid!) phone calls, make my life a living hell. Suddenly body language can tell a story that contrasts tone of voice. You can lose yourself not only in the juxtaposition of contradictions, but you may also lose the tried and true signs of attraction—signs which I recently sleuthed the Internet for. (A bit ridiculous? I was desperate. And I flirt like a broken faucet.)
I should have a button that says, “Don’t talk to me. I’m Awkward.” Someone better watch out.

Friday, February 27, 2009

Season 3 ii: Beautiful Woman

Setting: Garfield, Eau Claire, WI

A bit of time has passed. I know very little about my mystery man. He absorbs himself in music until  class begins and then I am too shy to try to initiate anything else. I do steal the occasional glance, and I have caught his eye a couple of the times. It's harmless really. I just like knowing he will be in class. It's that little perk in my day. 

Other than Mr. III, guys have been slipping by. None have sent me pinging. So, I guess I will just have to wait and see this through. In the meantime, I keep up with the dailies. School, one job and then the other. It's a steady routine without any real kinks. That is... until today.

I head out of Hibbard, as usual, heading down Stein to snake the back way to The Boys and Girls Club. The walk is short enough and the weather is still pretty crisp.

When I first see the truck, I think nothing of it. I am used to seeing semis parked in strange locations. Too often they need directions. In fact, when the driver motions me over, that is the first and only thought that pops into my head. I suppose I should be less trusting, but I moved closer, only a bit hesitant. I was within feet of the truck when the driver leaned over and told me he thought I was a beautiful woman, that his name was Jerome and that he wanted my number.

Ha.

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