Sunglass Girl

I love driving in the rain. I have fairly new tyres on. They still let go really easily. It’s become a game: How fast can I go in the rain without stepping the back out? Quite fast it appears: Take the wider angle, play the throttle, steer smoothly and kick it once you’re straight.

That’s not as much fun though. It’s great when I forget. Come over the top of a slight hill with a slight turn. The truck becomes weightless. That’s all the warning you get, a sense of floating. Counter sharply cause that is a really heavy arse. It’s so much fun. What I love is the front stays completely normal. It must look so comical: This big steady bonnet calmly cornering whilst out over there the tail is throwing itself around and whooping. It feels fucking comical. Going fast is great. It’s taught me to calm down in “high-stress” situations – you can’t drive fast and well if you can’t relax.

I got to use that skill today. When talking to a very pretty girl.

Guys – including me – are really funny around girls I reckon. We all seem so fucking nervous about asking them out. And we all think the same. Even the really respectable gentleman. One I know is a retired wealthy respectful gentleman. Today he asked my mom if there was any chance he could get a live model to show off the bikini’s in the shop window. Imagine if Bendon had live models. Walking around the store. Going up to guys and saying “Hello sir, would you like to see what those look like? Sure, What size is your girlfriend? OK, Kathy can you come put these on please and show this gentleman how they look?”. Their sales would go through the roof.

Everyday since Saturday I’ve been into Sylvia Park on some pretense. I’ve found some nice jackets. And got some more Tshirts. But everyday I walk past the Sunglass hut stand expecting to not see a pretty brunette busy working. I’ve driven there trying to figure out what I’d say if she was there. I worked out this great routine. It involved all the creepy stalking I’ve done. I just realised why her surname reminds me of supercars. I’d get to Sylvia park. My heart would start bumping.  I’d ignore it, walk in, expecting her to not be there. I was never disappointed. Today was no different.

I walked in, half hoping she’d be there. She was there last Wednesday. I get to the booth. It’s deserted. Well fuck. I had to get some stuff from Foodtown, so off I went, with the intention of wandering around Whitcoulls after deciding if I want to buy the next Trudi Canavan book. I came out of Foodtown, thinking about books.

Do you know what accelerates faster than a Mclaren F1? My heartrate when I see a girl I really want to talk to. Fuck me. I felt like I should have been vibrating. So I imagined I was drifting in front of a cop in a Porsche. and my heart rate slowed back down. Not to normal. It was still fucking fast. Yeah, she was there now. Talking to some guy and convincing him to buy some glasses. She’s good at selling, whilst being completely honest. It’s a refreshing approach compared to some sales people. I wanted to approach. Instead, I walked into a store. Meccano’s I think. There’s a very pretty assistant there. Tall, thin blonde. Wanted to know if there was anything she could help with. Chatted to her for a bit. Realise mid-sentence she’d definitely be considered attractive by some guys. I don’t feel much attraction. I more just wonder how easy it would be to get her to date me. I click back into the conversation and ask what light jackets they have. She shows me a few, but they’re not good enough. I continue browsing, to nervous to walk out. The assistant comes over again and points me to some more jackets. She’s kinda standing there fingering them trying unsuccessfully to talk about them. Each time I turn away she says something. What the fuck? Is she interested in me? This is weird! A pretty girl seems interested in me!

I extricate myself quickly. Exit. Look over at the Sunglass hut counter. She’s not busy with a customer any more. She’s doing some work. I walk over, my breathing barely covering a paddling pool. And veer into the pharmacy.  I pretended to look at some face creams, whilst my hands shook. Dialogue is running through my head. “I could just go straight up and ask her out. Oh god, how would you feel if someone did that? Well…if they were hot I’d say ok – wait, we’re talking about her not me! We have a routine set up, just use that, ok?”. I eventually walk out.

Walk over to the counter. She doesn’t notice me. I walk all the way around the counter. And straight into Country Road. What am I doing????

I pretend to look at some jackets. Fortunately there are no desperate sales assistants. There are also no really nice jackets. Well, there is one, but don’t really need that style for that price. Hallensteins has got a few jackets on hold for me. Yes, a few. 3. I’m probably going to get 2.

I force myself to walk out. She’s still not busy! I still walk right past the counter! And straight up to The Body Shop!

On the way there, I notice all the bored security guards and lazy assistants aimlessly standing around. I’m kinda standing out – I’m wearing a fucking fedora. With barely anyone walking by, it’s would take someone blind, busy or day dreaming to not notice me. I wonder what they’re thinking. In The Body Shop, I look at some moisturisers. The sales assistant is engrossed in her phone thankfully. I give myself a mental pep tall (another one) whilst reading about chocolate body wash.  I ask myself “What’s the worst that could happen? Just go over there and talk to her! Look, if you don’t do it, you’re just wasting your time. You may as well just not bother. Ever.”

So I walked over. Somehow my heart rate is calm. Manageable. She’s busy at the computer. I say hello, she doesn’t quite hear, but hears something and cocks her head. She turns, jumps a little at realising there is someone there. Exchange pleasantries, asks if I want to look at the sunglasses again.

It took a millisecond. It felt like forever. I had to decide: Do I say yes, look, and walk? Or do I say no and try talk to her?

I went for the first option.

No I’m lying. I said “No, it’s alright, I found them online for cheaper”. We spoke for a bit about sunglasses. She had a stock book out. As we talked, she put the book away. We somehow got onto talking about why they should legalize euthanasia (I have no idea how. She was laughing some of the time though). I decided to try be more comfortable and leant on the counter a bit – she copied me. Which is a good sign. I think. Talking to her was easier than I’d thought it’d be. I was only there for a few minutes. At the end, I asked her if she’d like to do lunch some time. My heart wanted to start beating hard, but somehow, I managed to keep it normal. She says “I don’t see why not”. It would be really easy to read a lot into that. I’m going to stop over-thinking, stop worrying, right? So I’m going to read nothing into that. But I’m meeting her for lunch on Saturday at around 1.

It was really, really, really hard to not dance my way back to the car.

I cannot believe how easy it was to ask her out in the end. I’d been putting it off cause I was so scared, and yet, it was that easy?! I don’t mind if she’s “not looking for a relationship”, already in a relationship, or just not interested. I am attracted to her and would be quite happy to give up my wonderful single life if she’s as awesome as I think she is. But if she’s not, if it doesn’t end in a relationship, that’s ok. Because I’ve approached a pretty girl, had a not-embarrassing conversation with her, and now I’m going to lunch with her.

That’s so much better than anything I’ve ever done before.

I’m just a little excited.

About Gareth

I am a writer and an analyst with a huge love for cars, data, stories and mathematics. I'm dating a beautiful woman who has the single flaw of being vegan. And she chooses to date me. So two flaws. I'm currently documenting my restoration of a dilapidated Isuzu Piazza (No, I'd never heard of them either), attempting to build the world's largest database of cars, writing a fantasy novel where magic is based upon maths and attempting to review restaurants and cafes that cater for both my girlfriend's carrot-diet and my dependency upon meat, cigarettes and alcohol. View all posts by Gareth

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