An Excuse

Sitting across a room-a church sanctuary or a crowded bar-and you can help but stare at her beguiling smile.

Scour the room for an excuse to initiate conversation.  Her shirt?  Never heard that band…  Her drink?  Don’t like beer…  The book she’s reading?  You don’t read Jane Austen…

You can’t walk up and say, “Hi, my name’s Chris.  I think you have beautiful eyes, and if I didn’t find a way to come over here find out a little more about yourself, I’d be up all night regretting it.”

In High School and College you had no choice but to rub shoulders with people every day.  Now you’re on your own.  Life outside the cubicle is an awkward game of forcing yourself into social circles to make new, shallow relationships.  Any bonding happens over alcohol, because you don’t have time for anything else.  Your only hope is to come up with an excuse.

You rack your brain trying to come up with the courage to say something that doesn’t sound like the lame pick up line it really is.  She touches the hand of some other guy who made her laugh.  Or she leaves.  You order another drink, and wish you’d come up with an excuse.