I’m getting ready to start a lab when I realize that I don’t have any ethanol to wipe down my lab bench with. I am now faced with a choice: I can borrow ethanol from the guy to my left or the attractive girl behind me.
Tough choice. The first option is definitely safer. I wouldn’t have to worry about my voice cracking, my shoe laces suddenly being tied together or my pants spontaneously falling down as the universe’s way of getting even with me. At the same time I would not have the opportunity to begin a dialogue with the girl that I spend most of the lectures staring at.
Tough choice… tough choice. I could… tough choice. No wait… damn… tough choice.
Well, let it not be said that I am a coward.
Me: Can I borrow your ethanol?
Girl: Sure.
Girl hands Me the ethanol.
Me: Thanks.
Me wipes down lab bench then hands Girl back her ethanol.
Me: Here you go.
That’s it. But what you can’t get from that short transcript is the incredible subtext. Here’s how that conversation goes:
Me: Hey you’re pretty, and I can tell from the way you answer all those questions in class that you’re smart and from the conversations I’ve overheard you having you seem really nice and uh… um yeah and…
Girl: I notice you in the way I notice a tree, or maybe even a small building.
Girl hands Me the ethanol.
Me: Well, I’ve always thought of myself as an oak tree…
Me wipes down lab bench then hands Girl back her ethanol.
Me: …Or maybe even a pine tree, because I always thought of myself as a winter person… oh wait, you meant something else…
Peachy. Just Peachy. Well quite frankly I am not entirely satisfied with the way that conversation went. Let’s try running some simulations to see if we can get some better results. To the War Room!
Girls like mysterious men, right? I’ll try that.
Me: Hey.
Girl: Hey.
Me stares at Girl meaningfully.
Girl: Can I help you?
Me continues to stare at Girl meaningfully.
Girl: Whatever.
Girl walks away. Me stares at her backside longingly. (I have noticed that this is typically the way I stare at backsides.)
Perhaps I wasn’t being mysterious enough…
Me enters wearing luchador mask.
Me: Hola, señorita.
Girl: Uh… hi.
Me: I have come to sweep you off your feet Señorita Girl.
Me attempts to sweep Girl off her feet. Girl screams and pulls out pepper spray. Girl sprays Me in the eye. Then Me screams.
Me: Ahh, my one weakness!…
My mind’s eye… it burns. My terrible pun… it burns. I am beginning to wonder if perhaps the mysterious stranger is a bit overrated. I resolve to try a less direct method.
Me pulls out a piece of paper, very carefully writes a note on it and then folds it into a paper airplane. Me throws it to Girl. It hits her in the eye.
Wow. That one didn’t even have any dialogue. This is getting worse and worse. Maybe I should go back to trying to just being open.
Me: Hey.
Girl: Hey.
Me: So I noticed you were attractive…
Girl: So I noticed you were a chauvinistic pig…
Me: Yeah, I kind of am. So… you want to continue this conversation after class?
Girl laughs then pulls out pepper spray…
Well, looks like I cut that one off just in time. Man she loves that fucking pepper spray. But I’ve got a plan to get around that one.
Me: Hey.
Girl: What’s with the aviators?
Me: Oh, you know, I kept getting pepper sprayed by these girls I was trying to pick up…
Girl: Is that so…
Girl pulls out her tazer…
Ouch.
Me: Hey.
Girl: What’s with the wetsuit?
Me: Oh you know…
***
That was just silly. This whole thing is just silly. I give up. I’ll take the fucking subtext.
