My Luck Runneth Over and Out

The other day I was at the market, ordering some cheese, and the deli girl starts talking to me - she says I look familiar- do I know this person or that person? Have I ever been to this or that place?
Hmmm, I think. She's hitting on me. I like that.
I do know one of the people she mentions. I don't like that.
In fact, I hate that person, but I keep this to myself.

She's that person's roommate; that's where I know her from, she wasn't making that up, but I still think she's using it as an excuse to hit on me. That's fair- I've used lamer excuses.
She uses a marker to write her number on an empty zip-loc deli bag. That pretty much clinches it. She wants me to call her.

I'm not at all interested, but I am flattered. I almost forget who I'm really thinking of-but only for a moment.

"Well, I'm sort of seeing someone..." , I lie, thinking how many times I've been on the other end of this conversation.
Lots of times.
I don't want to hurt her feelings, she's nice enough, just not my 'type'.

"Call me anyway", she says.
Oh, it's like that.

But I've been through all of that, and while it's fun to fool around, I really think I'd be happier with only one person. Full-time, you know.
So I throw out her number.
Plenty of herring in the sea, as they say...

----------

This morning I'm sharing an elevator with a beautiful woman I don't recognize.
Red hair, ah- one of my myriad turn-ons... she's a bit taller than me and I can't help notice that her nipples are pointing right at me through her storm-grey blouse.
Oh my.
Hooray for air-conditioning!

" Do you like his stuff?", she asks.

His stuff? I'm staring at tits. What's this talk about "his stuff?"

Oh. My book. I'm carrying a copy of Umberto Eco's Baudolino and she's looking at it.
Whew! Thought she caught me staring!

I experience a split-second of infinity, for a moment this lovely woman and I are sitting on a blanket on a pure white beach, reading passages from Eco's works to each other between lingering kisses...kisses of promise.

Have you ever done that?
Read aloud to a lover? Man, it rocks...anyway...
In my fantasy she's reading the pinball passage from Foucault's Pendulum to me...I've already got our future planned, she'll be my agent and I'll write many masterpieces for her...our life together while be a living dream, all beaches and travel, music and poetry.

A sexy, literate redhead with excitable nipples and a good job.

Who would think I'd meet the perfect woman in an elevator at work?

I hate elevators. I hate work. But this...this is good.

" I tried reading Name of the Rose , but I couldn't get into it. I think he's hard to read."

Huh? This is not in my fantasy. She just dissed one of my favorite writers!

We get out on the same floor.

"Look", I start to explain, using Baudolino as an example, " Eco often challenges you at the beginning of his works- it's a method of introducing you to the mind of his protaganists, who are always very complex and well-realized characters. Once you understand the character, you start to understand why he is giving you the details he does- as a bonus, his research is so meticulous and scholarly that it's like getting a free trip in a time machine..."

I don't even get to finish. She's turned and walked away from my erudite exposition without saying a word.
She enters her office- a new attorney, I note- and shuts the door.

Our future is ruined.

It was fun while it lasted.