Putting On The Moves Without Making A Spectacle
Reader, the week before last I went to the opticians for a contact lens fitting. The optician was an attractive young girl, and being an optician was professional, hygienic and clean. We got on in a very friendly and forthright way. Pleasantries became chit-chat, chit-chat became light joshing, and then she stared deep into my eyes and asked me to look up to the ceiling.
A few moments later we were done, and I was outside blinking and all a-flutter. Unless I develop a nasty eye infection (fingers crossed), I'll probably never see her again. But thing is, I should really rather have liked to have 'done' her.
Now, in the land of TV and film, I would have suggested we go on a date, met up, had dinner, had sex, and with lots of hilarious dialogue. But in the real world, if I'd have suggested so much as walking past her in the street, the atmosphere would have turned distinctly sour. This is because, in the real world, you can't just get chatting with virtual strangers of the opposite sex and make such suggestions unless you're a complete wanker.
Why do we have these walls between us? Why this complicated dance of social mores and rules? How on earth would one put the moves on one's optician? It's a real shame. Just think of all the hygienic sex we're missing.
A few moments later we were done, and I was outside blinking and all a-flutter. Unless I develop a nasty eye infection (fingers crossed), I'll probably never see her again. But thing is, I should really rather have liked to have 'done' her.
Now, in the land of TV and film, I would have suggested we go on a date, met up, had dinner, had sex, and with lots of hilarious dialogue. But in the real world, if I'd have suggested so much as walking past her in the street, the atmosphere would have turned distinctly sour. This is because, in the real world, you can't just get chatting with virtual strangers of the opposite sex and make such suggestions unless you're a complete wanker.
Why do we have these walls between us? Why this complicated dance of social mores and rules? How on earth would one put the moves on one's optician? It's a real shame. Just think of all the hygienic sex we're missing.
posted by Stephen Beckett at 9:23 AM
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