One of the great (or not so great) things about being single is that everyone assumes you're available to do work around Valentine's Day. This year was no exception. I worked as a researcher in a small division of a really large company, and being young and single was unusual in this group. Thus when the job came up to spend several days in Ottawa working in the high-tech research facility that was there, I got landed with it. The schedule worked out so that I headed up there Wednesday evening, and worked Thursday and Friday. Since I was there anyway, I decided to tack on a couple extra days in the hotel on my own coin so I could do some sightseeing and skating on the canal that weekend. Thursday was Valentine's Day.
It was a quick drive up to Ottawa. I left early from work on Wednesday, and found and checked into the downtown hotel at about nine o'clock. Since I had an early morning and long day ahead of me, I decided to have a quick swim and hit the sack. I was in bed before ten.
At eight the next morning, I was wide awake and working hard with one of the researchers at CANMET. Though I was happy being single, I tried to avoid looking too much at the decorations some people had posted around their workstations. It's nice being single, but somehow not having a date on Valentine's Day gets to you. I found myself occasionally slipping away from the task at hand and wondering what I was going to do that evening, if everyone was having romantic dinners with their significant others.
That got a little too depressing, and I found it easier just to do my best to ignore people's cheesily romantic cards and focus on my work.
Before we actually managed to get anywhere on the work, I found myself coming out of a deep, thoughtful stupor to a loud rumbling. It was accompanied by an intense hunger in my stomach. I looked at the clock. No wonder I was starved- it was after 1:00! A quick glance at my research partner told me he wasn't focusing well anymore either, so I suggested lunch. He'd packed his, and wasn't interested in the free one my company would have bought him. So I went alone.
Wandering outside, I looked around to get my bearings. I didn't know this area of Ottawa very well, so without thinking about it I just sort of walked in the same direction most of the people around me were walking. Sure enough, the destination involved food. There was a whole block of restaurants of every kind you could imagine; from fast food to fancy places you'd bring a client. Being alone, I opted for a healthy sandwich in a little deli.
As I wandered in the door, I glanced around at everyone in the place. This is a habit I've formed- no matter where I am, I always think there might be someone around that I know. Besides, you never know when you might get a good look at some eye candy...
I wasn't disappointed. Right beside the window, sitting alone at a little table for two, was one of the most gorgeous girls I've ever seen. I think the first thing that caught my attention was the light, curly-brown hair- you could almost call it blonde, but not quite. That wasn't what kept my attention, though. A quick once-over told me that when she stood up she'd have an absolutely stunning body. She looked tall, maybe five-nine, and wore a short skirt and blouse combination of the kind I like- dressy enough to look smart, and sexy enough to show she didn't mind being a woman. And tight enough that it left only the most delicious parts to the imagination. The blouse was white, and you could see hints of a black bra underneath with enough lace to go a little beyond 'professional'.
Funny. I could walk into my own office and not notice that someone had removed the computer, but in a quick up-and-down glance, I had pretty much figured out this girl's measurements. Shows where my priorities were.
My eyes wandered up to the face, which I usually try to leave for last. Hot bodies are a dime a dozen these days, but a woman who's truly beautiful is rare. When you're out looking just for entertainment, you always look at the sure things first, before looking at the part that ruins it all.
Not the case here. She was focused on the book she was reading, and her dark blue eyes darted quickly across the page as she read. High cheekbones, full, soft-looking lips, and a nice, sort of tanned complexion. No make-up, which is always a plus with me.
I was standing in the line by this time, and had my head sort of turned to look at her. I was focusing on those eyes; the sunlight reflected off the table made them look really bright blue. Then they were looking at me as she raised her head to take a break.
This used to get me completely flustered- not a day would go by when I didn't have a girl catch me staring at her. I'd go red, cough, look away, turn around, and usually trip over something. But I guess repetition is good practice, because I was getting better. Sometimes I just pretend I'm in the middle of a scan of the room, sometimes I shift my eyes slightly so I'm looking at something behind them. Other times, like this one, I let them see I'm looking at them, but try not to make a big deal of it.
I let her see me looking for just a second, smiled slightly (I have blue eyes too, and in the right light my smile can really catch people's attention), then turned away with the annoying feeling that I knew her.
I call it annoying because my habit of looking around is accompanied by the continuous impression that I know someone, often whether I know them or not. To try to clear my head, I looked at the menu and tried to decide what to eat.
But I couldn't get those blue eyes out of my head. There was something flirty in the expression- not flirting directly with me, but just generally flirty. It was irritatingly familiar, and despite trying to concentrate on the menu I found myself thinking about where I'd seen her before.
By the time I reached the counter, I had stolen several glances in her direction, which didn't help except to reinforce the certainty that I knew her. I'd just decided to go over and ask her once I had my sandwich, when she looked up and our eyes met again. Something in the expression (and my body's reaction to it) put me in mind of being a young teenager, full of hormones and empty of confidence, wishing I had the guts to talk to... Oh...! Tracy...
Back in high school there'd been this girl named Tracy, who was drop-dead gorgeous, friendly, and athletic. She actually (I learned later) had a job with a local modelling company. I had only had a couple of classes with her, and having been the nerd of the school (with associated level of confidence and attitude) I had almost never spoken or interacted with her. My general impression of anyone who was popular in those days was that they were also dumb. Looking back, I guess it was a one-dimensional view, but it helped save my sanity when I was five-ten, weighed a hundred and twenty pounds dripping wet, and wore binoculars over my eyes. You have to have something to brag about, after all.
But there was more to the memory. Later on in high school I'd developed my own version of confidence, which allowed me to occasionally (without an audience) flirt with girls I knew. For some reason, this one time, that confidence extended to a girl I really didn't know...
It was after school one time, when I had practice for one team or another. I often stayed late after school to work on something anyway, but three or more days a week I was practicing cross-country running, volleyball, or some other sport into which I threw myself with a fervour only available to the nerd trying to prove himself as something else.
I was wandering down a hallway of the school, on my way somewhere, when Tracy came out of the science area. I flashed her my nervous smile and said, "Hey," as I walked by. She flashed her much more confident smile at me and said, "What are you still doing here?"
Now, I could write an essay with all the vocabulary in the world, write poetry with eloquence and feeling that brought tears to people's eyes. This did not reflect itself in my spoken vocabulary when I was talking to a model. I always felt the need to justify myself...
"Cross country practice. We have a meet next wee-"
She was already past me. I never got the hang of telling when someone really meant it when they asked me a question like, "How's it going?", so I assumed she really didn't care. Not wanting to stop on a stupid word like 'wee-', I asked her what she was doing around.'
She turned around as she passed me, and was walking backwards to talk with me, as was I.
"Working on an assignment- I missed my early bus."
"Oh. Physics?" It was the only class I shared with her.
"No, English." She smiled, and my paranoid mind swore it was because she knew I only knew about that one class, and of course she expected me to know her entire schedule. Fortunately, I was saved from stumbling into a pointless apology by her stepping backwards into a garbage can and sending it banging across the hallway. Swearing, she spun around to try to grab it, then jumped across the hall to catch it before it fell over.
"Oops," I said, sympathetically, "You almost fell for me." Good job, stud. That'll get you a date.
