the pickup

I was riding my bike home after work, lost in my thoughts. At a stoplight, another cyclist pulled up beside me and said, "you're hot. Do you want to get something to eat?"

Taken aback, "I don't think so. I need to get home," was my reply.

"That was a horrible pickup line, wasn't it?" He answered. I cringed and nodded. "Do you have a boyfriend?" I shook my head no. "Can I try the pickup line again?"

"Okay. . . " I spoke tentatively, a bit more intrigued.

"Do you want to get something to drink and talk?"

I agreed. I couldn't think of a good reason not to & the level of self-awareness this fellow was exhibiting looked promising. So I spent some of this glorious 60 degree afternoon sitting outside Stumptown talking with N. I told him of my recent kung fu movie viewing. He has practiced kung fu for four years (He cannot yet run across water - I asked.) & is a big fan of kung fu movies. We spoke about the brilliance of Jon Stewart. We spoke about the wonderfulness of Portland. We spoke about the not-so-wonderfulness of our jobs. Not amazing, but good. We exchanged numbers and have tentative movie plans for next week.

So the whole episode seems like something out of someone else's life. I don't get picked up. . . at least not often.