the maginot line

my probably all too obvious attention to her facial features was broken by her new best friend, zac. clearly he had not learned his lesson, though zac is the kinda fella who thinks his looks are the justification of his invicibility. or maybe he just has the magical ability to never hear the word no or comprehend rejection of any kind. most of the time, i admire it. but now, zac was forcing himself into something of mine, and he was not welcome. but i weighed the relative risk of this disputable interruption versus the relative benefit of maintaining good terms with the guy who comps me twice as often as anyone else, and i see that discretion here is the better part of getting drunk cheap.

he wanted to know how the zinfindel was going down. ick. i wasn't even necessarily trying to score with this woman (frankly, i think she'd go up one side of me and down the other, turning me into the woman), but i immediately felt cock-blocked. zac leaned in with that smarmy, "yeah, i just hit on you with a double-entendre" smirk that guys always do. as if the words weren't slimy enough, they have to produce a facial expression that will communicate their inner leer more concretely. of course, i don't do that. if for no other reason than i have no idea how to be that way. even in those rare moments (like this one) where i start chatting up some woman-stranger, i think i come off more as the deranged loner type than the lady-killer, silver-tounged dude.

zac certainly got his answer. "just fine until i was interrupted." which was delivered in concert with a frost warning. now, being the sensitive (read: paranoid) soul that i am, i wondered if that was meant for zac, me, or both. her hostility toward zac continued to barrel down the tracks unabated. in fact, it seemed she was heaping coal into its engine. but maybe she was irked by me too. i did interrupt her after all. but she had responded to me with relative indifference, if not any warmth, in graphic contrast to the umbrage she took with zac.

all the same, i started thinking through how to deal with either possibility. if she thought i was interrupting, then i should shoot back with something snarky about how my crossword had been interrupted by her sitting down next to me. on the other hand, i could reverse the cock-block and say something to zac about ruining the lady's zinfindel. what to do...what to do...

my indecisiveness was rewarded (how often does that happen??!) when i noticed her offering zac no relief from the daggers her eyes were apprently well stocked with. that told me she wanted him to get lost. so i held back and waited to see if any of those daggers had my name on them. which would have been weird because she didn't know my name yet. but no, once zac got the hint and went off to bless someone else with his frat-steeped wit, she didn't even look at me.

that was the real shame of the moment though. because once i realised she wasn't going to come after me with the fires of her hell, i sort of hoped she would at least act like we might still be having a conversation. zac's injudicious appearance had broken whatever moment we were having and had revitalised her insularity. damnit! fucking zac, man. i think i'll crush his knees with a lead pipe someday. someday after he stops working here and comping me.

so, flummoxed and without sufficient wherewithall or game to try and re-enter her private world of rose wine and drunken mothers, i just sheepishly returned to my puzzle. now, when i say i returned to my puzzle, i mean i faced it and held a pen in my hand, but i kept my eyes trained on her via the all too obvious side-stare. i guess i didn't care if she noticed. but yeah...i did. i was like a chastened dog who keeps looking to his master (mistress for all you pc freaks) for the sign that i've been forgiven and start eating from the table again.