Friday, 28 December 2012

Slightly Less Short Fridays: Some Other Day

Dan.

Dan was in a bar.

He was with friends.

Now, Dan was single.

Dan wasn't very good at being single.  He wasn't much good at anything to do with being single.

Dan was looking at a girl.  He wasn't looking at her, of course.  He wasn't a pervert.  Cos for all he knew, she wasn't single, or perhaps she was but maybe she was as uncomfortable as he was with all of this stuff, so he didn't stare.  Didn't want to make things more awkward than they had to be.

So he didn't stare.

He was aware of her presence.

She looked nice.

She looked like good company.  She hadn't tried to hard to look good.  Not that she didn't look good.  She looked lovely.

She looked like she'd made a bit of an effort to look nice.  Because it's nice, isn't it?  To look nice?  It helps us to feel good about ourselves.

I mean, she looked lovely.  But she looked like there were more important things to be concerned about, you know.  There was something else, that I c-, I mean, that Dan couldn't put a finger on.

She looked like she maybe had hobbies.  Like, I don't know, water polo or something.  Volunteering to help the sick.  Something noble.

She was smiling.  Not just because she could, or because she should, but because she was really interested in what her friend was telling her.  She looked really pleased that something was going well for him.

And Dan wanted her to look at him like that.  Because he had something really interesting things to say, and he was sure she could offer some fascinating insight.  Something he'd never thought of before.  A new way of looking at things that would maybe make him realise that he was a bit of a dickhead about something and see things from a new point of view.  Become a better person.

He imagined how it might start.  How he might stand next to them at the bar.  Overhear their conversation and find it was something he knew something about.  Off his opinion.  Gain her trust.

It had to be something relevant.  He couldn't just go up to her and start talking about anything.  It had to be natural.

His friends were talking about football.  Or the next round.  Or about Si's girlfriend.  How fit she was.  She was nice, Si's girlfriend.  She gave a shit about stuff that didn't have to matter to her.  Politics.  Other people.  And she was beautiful too.  Which was important, you know.  This was a point of pride.  Si was proud of this.  It really mattered.

The girl at the bar wasn't like Si's girlfriend.  She was ... nice.  She wasn't ... fit.  She wasn't fat either, and she wasn't ugly, not at all.  In fact she was really pretty.  In her way.

He only wanted to talk to her, after all.  She just looked like an interesting person to know.  So it didn't really matter.  Someone better would come along at some point away, probably.  Some other day.


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Look at me, going all Nick Hornby on you.

Link of the Day: Confessions

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