{Sun, 22 July, 2007}   Women are irrational. Almost as irrational as… I.

I saw a ghost… Friday evening, I had to pull a closing shift at the cinema, working from 8 p.m. ’til 1 a.m., but not a large deal. It amounted to cleaning one “set” of theatres, then slothing off, going from show to show, to catch the choicer moments of each. Easy way to make extra scratch.

 ‘Til auditorium 13 released. It was the penultimate showing of Knocked Up, & as I dismissed the patrons guests, with an imprecation to “get home safely” & “keep it real”, I was stoked. It was already 1215, if memory serves, & only three more theatres stood to release. Then, the unknowable unknown crossed the threshold of the rear-exit.

She was a female I had met last September ’06, leaving a theatre in the same complex, after seeing Oliver Stone’s World Trade Center. She was in a group of five, three men, two women, & as the males of the party shuffled to the restroom before heading in quintet to their vehicle, the two ladies chatted me up. The one whom I would see again, leaving Knocked Up, exaggeratedly remarked about my facial hair, “I love your beard”. (It is a big, bushy beard, that said, so thoroughly lovable. Sometimes.) So, we spoke for a bit beyond that, about films & such, mostly the one she had just seen, & her friend pipped up, presumably in seriousness, that I should look up her friend where she works. & after making sure — as much as I could make sure — that the aside was not jest, I figured, perchance I would.

 Well, that blew up in my face. I went looking for this woman, Laura, nineteen, chubby, & curly-haired, at her place of employ, finding her, & after two apparently-successful conversations with her — once when she was price-checking, again when she was on a register — my luck ran out. I met up with her, again, & after speaking very briefly, went to purchase a Dr. Pepper. While on-line for the register, she approached & asked me not to come looking for her, again. (Busted!)

 … So, I didn’t. I had barely known the girl, anyway, & had only thought to take a chance on her maybe, actually, kind of being interested in me, since I had never tried that out before, on the rare occasion when a women demonstrated interest, so no loss. Plus, I didn’t see fit to shop at her grocery store chain, anyway. (I’ve always been a Sentry-phile. Even worked at one, in my high-school years.)

 Comically, then, she did apparently keep me in her mind. About a month after being unceremoniously waved-off by Laura, she was back at my theatre for moving-picture show on a Friday that I happened to be working, & she encountered me at the concessionist’s stand. She had a shit-eating smile on her face & said, “Hey…”. I just walked off.

& for seven-&-an-half months, I didn’t see her, again. ‘Til Knocked Up‘s opening weekend. & I didn’t know how to respond. I clearly hadn’t menaced her, so I wouldn’t have been in the wrong to remain at the door, finishing the exit greetings for that showing, telling each exiting patron to “keep it real”, but just the thought that I had been turned away in mid-September like some common peeping-tom creep, only to have her run into me a month later & act like I was Scolari to her Hanks, & then run into her, again, didn’t make me want to do anything but rush to the break-room & curl myself into a ball of tears & hesitation.

So, I did. I extracted myself from crossing her path, as I had been explicitly instructed to do — I hadn’t been to any Pick n’ Save, let alone hers, since Sept ’06, & beyond that, had not looked her up in any other way (in fact, by early November ’06, she never passed my thoughts) – & went away from her.

Thing is, though, I feel cheated. I feel like I was instructed to give no pursuit to her, but she still “taunts” me. I’m not one to take the bait, nor will I do that, but it’s strange… Who’s the creep(ier)? The one who by request wants me gone, but then, when running into the one she wants gone, treats him like an old friend, or the one who’s wanted gone?

I don’t know, nor will I ever. But I wish I did.

I wish I could read a woman’s flirtations, period, to determine which are real & which are faux.

All I do know is that Cashier Laura was not, is not, & will never be the (kind of) woman for me.


Leave a Reply

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in: Logo

You are commenting using your account. Log Out /  Change )

Google+ photo

You are commenting using your Google+ account. Log Out /  Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out /  Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out /  Change )


Connecting to %s

et cetera
%d bloggers like this: