RE: The Approach Thread
“A Prime Venue” 6-9-15
Funny, how the 99 cent store just doesn’t draw the same crowd as, say, Whole Foods or Trader Joe’s. All can be probable venues for making plays, but some have more weight on the scales. Trader Joes’ has been the family’s all-time favorite stop to shop since the beginning of time. But only so recently have I learned to access this further utilization of what the scene there has to offer.
Before I even get to the damn entrance, I spot what turns out to be an Asian heading in ahead of me. I zero in on her and generate a weak chat. Determining that she had no fucks to give regarding my innocent banter, I unwisely break away (sill one of my prime bad habits), additionally reasoning that I could re-engage her through a genuinely coincidental run-in at some other part of the store. This phenomenon happens often, actually, but in this case just what I didn’t have in mind was what went down – she promptly checked the fuck out.
Moving on.
I think it was the 2nd chick I deemed to be desirable there to whom the major play of the day centered on, but it was a bit of time in arising, for initially, as I scoped her out from maybe 10 yds. away, she was chronically affixed to her phone. So, for the time being I cut off my focus and got down on what I was primarily there for, if ya can believe it – to get some fucking food.
I still kept her on the edge of the reticle, but it didn’t seem like she was ever gonna get off the phone, so after a few minutes I did indeed lose track of her. She was very good-looking, wearing a long, floral print dress and button-up sweater dealy. It’s possible that her hair style was juuuust enough to allow my attention to be diverted elsewhere momentarily. It was a bit under shoulder-length, and curled up in the back in an odd manner.
In the resulting interim, I lock onto another Asian, very slim and slight. I strike up a somewhat decent indirect chat, geared on my desire to put together a Waldorf salad from their selection, and the resulting bewilderment on my part in regards to the sprawling array of salad gear evident before us. Her frequent aversion to eye-contact and tendency to turn away form me may very well have had a cultural connotation in this case, but right then and there I interpreted it as shyness, lack of interest, or both. Anyway, after a few minutes she politely excused herself from the exchange, stating how it was nice talking to me, and moved along.
Finishing the actual shopping soon after this point, if I can properly recall, I did catch a quick sight at floral dress chick here and there, but I think she was either still on the phone, or maybe I was still scopin’ out someone else or two. Jesus, maybe my spirits were gettin’ depleted by then, or I thought that she had left. Fuck, one thing for sure, I was always kinda far away when I’d spot her, and so this gal turned out to be just one of those who you need to be up close in order to really take in her beauty.
A blur of a few minutes.
I figured I was done with it for the day. I had all of my gear, so I got in a check-out line – what turned out to be the longest one.
Look who appears through blind chance. She passes right by me.
I say nothing . . . just kidding.
Really, though, I immediately determine it to be rather improbable a prospect to try an’ strike up a light chat, maybe asking where she got whatever-the-fuck item from her cart. I was in a line that’d be moving, and she wasn’t gonna join that big-ass stretch. Just as she breezes past . . .
“Hey, how ya doin’?” I toss out.
“Good. How ‘bout yourself?”
“I’m good.”
She walks on to a distant line.
Let me pasue for a sec. One, seeing her up close, I resoundingly conclude that she’s intensely gorgeous. Two, I found her response to be exceptional. Typically, when I ask an attractive girl how she’s doing, I’ll be ignored. A close 2nd would be a “good”, but that rare event consisting of her reciprocating my greeting equivalently means a quality play is at hand.
Sooo . . . I let her pass all the same, but watch after to see where she’s going. Good thing I was in a long line, so I had a bit of time to think. As she struts on over to another line, I make a quick study of her ass (snort). Her outfit was really quite modest, but I could gather from the movements that the existence of a definitively voluptuous body under all that could be quite likely.
She gets onto a fairly short line. What a HUGE blunder it’d be to jus’ leave it at that. I wrench my cart out of line and head in her direction. I do not go right over to her first. I buzz around a nearby aisle, as if I forgot something. I know, a pretty hollow move, considering my direct opener, but hell, let’s toss a bit of mysticism into the brew.
Following that brief pause, I saunter over to her line.
“Wow. Looks like this line is really moving. Can I join the party?”
She responds to the affirmative, with a dose of enthusiasm, in fact.
“I bet you’re a regular here,” I asked, causing her to turn to face me.
Her large, brown eyes are like saucers. Maybe some kind of Hispanic or Middle-Easterner. Again, I couldn’t quite place what the deal was with the hair. It was ok, but imagine if it were styled differently (ie: long).
“Yeah, but not at this one. I was just passing through on my way to Riverside.”
“That’s quite a ways from here.”
“I’m visiting friends in this region.”
“Cool, cool. Is there a Trader Joe’s in Riverside?”
“Well, of course. They’re all over,” she retorted.
“Oh, sure, but ya know how it is. The place you’re goin’ to tends to be where one ain’t.”
I continue, “This is my favorite store. I kind of have a usual roster of stuff that I get, deviating only when I feel particularly adventurous.”
She replied, “Oh yeah? Let’s see what we got here . . .”
Hell, at this point, she actually starts to kinda poke around in my cart, gently teasing me regarding a couple of the snack items I had in there.
“Cookies? Pop-tarts,” she joked, “and what are these bad boys?” indicating the veggie chips.
“Sure. Check it out. All great items. Representative of a proper diet,” I proclaimed.
I went into a quick spin about how this or that item I had in there is good, and how she should try it. It should’ve been clear to me then that a counter-tease about the crud she had in her cart would be in order – some meats and wine or some shit. Damn. Maybe, instead of thinking to snap that up, I was scoping glimpses down her blouse. Although partially obscured by her buttoned sweater thingy, one could see that she had large, full breasts.
Her few items wouldn’t take long to ring up.
I kept the chat themed in the “yeah, this is my shit, and I got it cuz it’s good” territory, but soon she latches onto her own stuff, remarking of something to the effect of how even though her company provides for lunch, she’s kinda bendin’ the rules, with the wine and all.
Right about now, her shit’s gettin’ rung up, and so both I and the young guy runnin’ the register respond to that with a chuckle. I add how “ya gotta take advantage of that”. Goddamn, if only she’d have joined in behind me on that long line. Time was almost out.
As she gets her receipt and turns to leave, as my stuff is being processed, “So am I gonna see ya again . . . or, is this it?”
“Oh, well, actually, I’m visiting from Oregon. I just moved there.”
She told me the name of some town, and I ask if it’s near one or two there that I know of. Whatever I can do to keep her the fuck from leaving. All the while the cashier is silently ringin’ the business.
“How long you gonna be out here for?”
“A week.”
“Let’s get together.”
“Oh, I can’t. I’m going to be working, and I’m seeing someone—“
“What kind of work you into?” I cut in, crisply ignoring all that horsemess.
As she pushes her cart down the way, “Thermal imaging.”
The window having effectively closed, I toss on a lame finishing line of, “I’ll have to look that up an’ see what it’s about” as she breezed on out the door.
The ways were parted sporting mutual smiles, but I couldn’t help but look introspectively as to just how I must’ve fallen short.
“Almost had that shit,” I remarked to the clerk, as he registered the last of my items.
With perhaps a touch of dazzlement, “Phew, yeah. Maybe she felt she was kinda cornered there.”
“Naw,” I lamented, “she had a viable escape route.”
“You’re right. Good try, though,” he replied.
“This is a prime venue. That was my 3rd approach in here just now. Yeeaah, I’m a daygamer.”
“Whoa, I’ll have to take notes from you.”
“Eh, I’m just startin’ out. We’ll exchange notes,” I finalized.
As I went off for the door, I exuberantly shook hands and exchanged pleasantries with another clerk I knew, fresh off of the charge from seeing the play through, despite its ultimate rejection.
In contrast to our standard indirect play, where one is afforded a berth of time for which to cozily build rapport, here was the distinct flavor of direct, with me jumping at her in fairly short order, leaving her devoid of any doubt as to my motive.
This was a solid play. Psh, well, at least from the standpoint of how good a rejection could feasibly look. This woman was interested. However, clearly, any of a wealth of factors proved to negate a successful close. The rawest deal would’ve been my inadvertently projecting an attribute that she found to be unattractive. Or, perhaps, her heaving breasts really were slated for another pair of hands, and she wasn’t up to deviating. Pick a fuckin’ reason. What . . . ever. At the worst, I gained experience.
A mild bonus was the clerk’s role in the deal, or should I say absence of such, for in the midst of the action he made no attempt toward cutting into the deal, except to offer praise after the fact. Heh, imagine if he’d have offered her testament as to my excellence, what a pristine selflessness such would prove to be.
Anyway, he thought what I had pulled was awesome, and I loved that. In the grand picture, I persist amongst the shadow of behemoth odds, in a venture that, apparently, most guys have not the cluster to muster.
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