Wednesday, February 15, 2006

I Swear I'm Not A Stalker

Yesterdays post got me thinking about the ones that got away, and there have been a few of those. Of course nobody has ever believed me when I told it before, probably because I’ve always had a flare for the dramatic.

The funny thing about love is that when it fell overhead like a cloudburst, I usually had to ask if it was raining. Of course at home, soaked like a sea sponge, I was once again capable of basic math, but by then I didn’t have the numbers to add up.

I lived in Santa Clara some fifteen years ago. My friend Bob and I decided to buy mountain bikes in Santa Cruz, but we had to stop by his bank which was just down the street from the bike shop.
Bob had the personality that I would classify as type ice-breaker. Every group needs one; somebody who is fearless of beautiful women, able to introduce himself and his friends in the most intimidating of circumstances. The teller at the bank was vintage California, lean, tan, sparkling blue eyes and sun bleached, sandy blonde hair. She was the kind of beauty that severs the neural network connecting the mouth to the brain, unless of course your name is Bob.

In two or three sentences, the entire staff of Bank West was gathered behind the counter, laughing and cheering Bob’s decision to buy a mountain bike. I was dimly aware of all this as I watched her mouth, that bright smile that doubled her intensity.

We bought the bikes and rode them back to the bank, because for some reason, Bob needed to get more money from the ATM. The bank was closed now, and I felt a stab of disappointment that I wouldn’t see her again. I was a little short on cash myself, so I put in for forty dollars and stuffed my wallet in my bike pack.

“Is this the bike?”

I looked up and there she was, dressed casual now with her dad standing behind her. “Yeah, how do you like it?”

I got off and tilted it towards her. She ran her hands over seat, and then tried the gear controls and brakes. “Oh, this is very nice. Very nice.” Her face wasn’t more than a foot from mine as we looked at one another. I may not have been the Love God, but there was something carnal in that gaze we shared.

“Is there a good place to ride nearby?” I asked her.

“There are lots of great places to ride.” She was so excited as she explained to me a set of mountain trails she liked to go to. I wanted to ask her to come with me, but I felt a little weird with her father standing nearby, who was not threatening in anyway. Rather he seemed quite friendly. But I didn’t pull the trigger, and I went home a frustrated guy.

I couldn’t get her out of my head, so a week later I drove to the bank and waited outside for her to come out, feeling suddenly like a stalker. I saw her finally, so I got out of my car and walked to the ATM, as if I just got there. She looked at me as I went by and gave me a friendly hello. I did the same—and kept walking.

Insert chicken clucking here.

It gets more embarrassing, trust me.

So a month later, I actually opened an account. I went to her counter and she directed me to another window. If she recognized me I don’t know. My home address was thirty miles away, and it must have seemed very strange. I walked out frustrated again, but with a bad feeling this time. It was too late. I closed the account a month later, and vowed to at least say something to her.

“Aren’t you the one that gave me directions to some mountain trails,” I said like a total jackass. The Monte Python knight with a flesh wound had more sense.

“Probably,” she yawned without looking up.

It was one of those moments, and I’ve had quite a few, that I wished for the power to snap my fingers and simply disappear.

7 comments:

Beth said...

Wow, that is stalker-ish. Funny though. Did you ever read any Nicholas Sparks? Your writing style reminds me of his and I forgot to tell you until now. =)

Eve said...

Been there, done that - timidity is my middle name. Great story!

Scott said...

Beth - I never heard of him, but will definitely look him up. Thanks.

Eve - Isn't it awful? I hate it when I chicken out. Fortunately I don't have to worry about it any more.

Moni said...

Ah ha! Beth I said the same thing to Scott a while back; that his writting reminded me of Nicholas Sparks.

Don't beleive me Scott? Look it up. So you see there I wasn't just blowing smoke up your butt. lol

That is a good story. I don't consider it stalkerish. Do you remember the 80's movie, "Say Anything"? The character played by John Cusack is holding up a boom box standing outside the girl's house, refusing to leave until she responded. Back then it wasn't considered stalkerish, but I guess now it would be.

You know I think the major thing with both women and men is that they want what they can't have.
Maybe Malibu Barbie wanted you when you were with your friend; both of you rallying for her affections. But then when you made your presence more noticeable, maybe she felt getting you wasn't a challenge.

...or she could have been an idiot, that's probably the case. ;)

magnetbabe said...

You're not a stalker. If a story like that makes you a stalker, I think everyone is guily! Am I right people?... Um, please?

Scott said...

Moni - Wow, I don't remember the reference to Nicholas Sparks, but two unrelated people can't be wrong. How exciting.

I totally remember Say Anything--what an excellent movie it was. I guess you could consider him a stalker. There is a fine line between being aggressive and stalking, and you just have to know when to call it quits.

As far as Malibu Barbi (good one by the way), I think the moment had passed, and possibly I had one more chance in that parking lot. After that I must have been suspect. I'll bet her coworkers and she were talking about how wierd it was that a guy so far away opened an account, and then the speculation...

I appreciate your support as always!

Natalie - Thanks for the vote of confidence. After Beth's comment, I was thinking I came off as a whacko. It was just an innocent thing really; a smitten guy who lacked the courage to act.

Come to think of it, I should have just come clean at the end. "Listen, I feel very silly, but I opened an account here because I wanted to talk to you." Something like that.

Ultra Toast Mosha God said...

Ouch.

At least you got a good story out of it though!

Every cloud.