On the trails of the Botanical Gardens, underneath the branches of the oaks and hemlocks, the slanting rays of late fall sun brought about a golden light and warmth that reminded me of my school boy days. There were so many things I did not understand. Girls being foremost among them. I, who thought I was cursed by perpetual platonism in my relationships, was in fact clueless. What now seems obvious was, in my tender years, inscrutable.
And as I was caught up in these reflections, I happened upon a young couple out for a walk. She had thought about this outing and put together an ensemble with that new Missoni sweater from Target, a skirt and tights of complementary color and a pair of boots more western in style than this year’s English riding types. Nonetheless, she had done the best one can within the circumstances of a college student. He had picked out a cleaner t-shirt and unripped jeans.
Despite this, there must have been something in the conversation to spark her interest. Either that or she was not ready to accept that he was another one of those guys. They were apparently trying to decide where to go to relieve the hunger that this perambulation had produced. As I jogged past, he drew her to him and inquired “Are you into, like, the buffet thing?” My heart sank along with hers.
I wanted to stop and say, “Listen honey, I’ve got this one.” And to him make clear, “Not only is she not into ‘like, the buffet thing’ but her entire interest in the ‘you’ thing is clearly in decline.” Because, honestly, she doesn’t care that you don’t have a bunch of money. A walk in the park and a dinner at a little greek place is fine. Hell, you are both college students, but you can find a diner that actually brings the food to your table for pretty much the same cost as Asiana. She’s clearly willing to be won over by you. Just throw the girl a lifeline here. Something.