Dear ladies. If you're in a laundromat,
And let a bloke strike up a conversation
On languages, and travel, this and that,
Of over TWENTY MINUTES in duration,
But fail to wear a ring, or even mention
That there may be a fellow in your life
(e.g., "MY BOYFRIEND" - this gets my attention)
Especially when the bloke says "MY.EX.WIFE."
Expect a moment easily prevented
When he requests a way to telephone.
It's awkward, yes. Both egos have been dented
Because he's guessed you MIGHT JUST be alone.
So find a way, just once, to say the word.
I'm list'ning. Trust me. Had you, I'd have heard.
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Alysa Salzberg
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Where hope and high congeniality
May infuse, perfume the space.
Those portholes where within
Is viewed the rhythmic roll of pillow case,
The soapy slop of underwear, while the din
Of dryers roaring heat and humidity
In their final cycle spin
May entice the inner juice of cupidity.
But laundromatic lust must fade
In the final folding if a shirt.
Housekeeping, at end, is staid
And passion succumbs to mere flirt.
When you are in a conversation at the laundromat, or grocery store, dentist office waiting room include a polite inquiry about attachment status along with travel, languages, this and that. "Do you have children?" can be an introduction that may include a tip!
But the real point of this "rant" is that you took a risk! Good for you!
All my best,
mhold
"In the final folding of a shirt."
perhaps she's one of those Chatty Cathies, who love to talk, and are so oblivious to flirtation that fail to see where something is headed?
or maybe she's an idiot? maybe all that heat from those dryers going on short circuited her brain?
you were doing laundry on Christmas Day?!
No guts no glory so good for you for trying.
hugs, oh no no no... if I'm holding a pair of aces, I am going to write a very nice poem and not tell you what's in my hand. As it happens, however, I am not holding a pair of aces. The trouble is, what I wanted to do was CALL.
Jan: nicely done. And all in all, I guess you're right. Certainly, you hit this one spot on.
trilogy: hmph. I admit, it was possibly not so much a blow to my ego as it was frustrating. Nuts, now I'll have to rework the whole poem.
mhold, your suggestion is excellent. It reminds me of something I used to do - I would ask my date where she was when Kennedy was shot. This allowed me to calculate her age, more or less surreptitiously. Now as it happens, the subject in question here was from Eastern Europe (languages, travel), and mentioned that she was 14 when her country broke away from the Soviet Union. I didn't have the dates handy, but I looked it up: she is 35. Ah, the secret, oblique language of who we are.
Muse: yes, I suppose I'm pretty much extending an invitation to anyone who wants to watch and comment on my dating ineptitude. Do buy some popcorn. This may go on for a while.
Flower Child: hmm, how to put this... your suggestion, er ah, hm.
And Jan again: closets are not safe for lots and lots of things.
anna1: I was multitasking. It was twenty minutes of (1)listening, (2)observing, and (3)imagining. I was at my limit however: had I been chewing gum, it all would have fallen like a house of cards.
vanessa: assuredly not an idiot. Speaks 5 languages. This makes her WAY attractive. Dare I say it: mmmm. So chatty kathy, yes, I think so.
Kim: fat lot of good it did me.
rita: honestly, it would have been easier to jump through fire. Man oh man.
fernsy: it's not that talking is flirting. It's that not mentioning the Significant Other leaves an opening. She didn't flirt. I just wanted to see her again. (Languages! Travel!)
catch: how come you're so smart?
Veronica: yes, it's 2010. And you don't have to "tell me you're married." But if you invite me home for dinner to meet your husband, at SOME point you might even SAY the word "husband." Voila. I will accept, with the full knowledge that you're married. You're interesting, I'm interesting, and we all feel pretty certain of our status and availability. Now let's eat.
Kate: yes indeed, life. And honestly, I'm happy to continue.
pastvoices: an excellent question. A ring to me means "this tells. Don't ask". Its absence could mean everything, or nothing. It's a tough call. I could just as well have made my decision by flipping a coin.
Oryoki: see, you don't need to tell me I-have-a-boyfriend. But you can find a nice coincidental subject in A TWENTY-MINUTE CONVERSATION where you can find a reason to mention him, no? "Oh why yes, that commute is very difficult! - I tried doing it with my BOYFRIEND but blah blah blah..." no? What could be simpler?
Thank you all so much for your reading, your comments, and this is a new one - your encouragement. I'll bring all of my dating problems to you all first. Be forewarned, however: if you turn up at the laundromat behind the fire station where the manager is from Honduras, and you engage in really, really interesting converstaion, I will probably ASK FOR YOUR PHONE NUMBER.
If you send me to the dictionary I will buy you flowers.
You're the greatest.
Goodnight!
hugs, I think your advice is good - because she was unquestionably flustered. And definitely not upset. But flustered, oh yes.
jali, thanks. I'm actually a good listener - and believe me, my ears are sharply tuned if the speaker is attractive. Before I asked her, I may have been turning purple. But I did breathe after she left.