Thursday, August 26, 2010

Jason Flirts at the Bank

Jason walked into the bank, just planning to cash some checks, but was caught off guard by the perky teller. As he handed his deposit slip underneath the glass window, he noticed her and a warm smile spread across his face, the type that's absolutely perfect for flirting.

See, when two people smile at each other there are two key elements: the smile itself and the eyes that tell the story. Jason never felt like he could get both parts right at the same time. Sometimes when a beautiful girl would walk by he would try to say with his eyes, "Hi, you're cute. What's up girl?" but his mouth would open just a notch and communicate, "Woh, you're hot. Woh." At other times, his smile would be pleasant but his eyes were a little unsure, a little anxious.

But at that moment, lacking self-awareness and over-analysis, it worked. And she reciprocated. Brenda smiled back. Jason didn't have to ask what her name was, because it was written on her name and her pen.

What!? Her pen? Jason's conversational skills came out:

"Why do have you name on your pen? I've never seen that before"
Brenda grinned and said, "People keep taking my pens..."
"...But since your name is on it, they give it back." he replied, now enlightened.
"Yeah, they sometimes take it home, but now they see my name on it and bring it back."
"That'll work," replied Jason, now intrigued by this bank teller ... named Brenda.

Jason's mind raced, in part because things were going very well and in part because he wasn't sure if Brenda was his type. Jason didn't know if he had a type. In fact, when people asked Jason what kind of girl he liked he would rattle off, "Oh, a girl who is intelligent, charming and attractive," to which the person asking would say, "Well you've already found one!" she would say...referring to herself. Only girls would ask that type of question. Platonic female friends.

Those are a tricky bunch, though Jason. Great company, but not girlfriend material for some reason. Especially hard were the attractive, platonic female friends. It didn't seem natural. Us men are made to want women for reproductive purposes, and then we decide not to? Hmmm, this would require more thought...

Jason snapped back to the moment, as two doue eyes were batted at him. Brenda had pretty eyes, a nice tan. She was latin, young, in her early 20s (he hoped, praying she wasn't in her late teens), not skinny, but curvy. Actually she had great curves, and a tattoo that said "strength" on her right wrist.

"What does your tattoo say?" he inquired.
"Strength."
"Why did you get that?"
"I don't know, I just felt like it."
"Why not courage or empowerment? Actually, that last one's kinda long. I bet you put a bunch of power words on a dart board and then..."

Jason motioned an expert throw, focusing his gaze on the target.

"...And then, it hit STRENGTH and that was that."

Brenda laughed.

It was on.