Chapter 1
You are browsing in Washington Square Park. It is a Saturday afternoon and you are roving along the southeast walkway on a warm day in early June. The sun is in the sky. The birds are in the trees. Vendors are in the park. All is well and you are roving and browsing.
As you round the corner, you notice a pretty young woman sitting alone on a bench. She is reading a book and perhaps waiting for someone like you to approach her. She is absolutely your type: thin, of medium height, with big brown eyes and long brown hair. You are also thin and of medium height with big brown eyes but with short brown hair. Go to her, you tell yourself. Do it now! But maybe she wants to be alone? Maybe she doesn’t want to be bothered. Maybe she’ll think you’re rude. Maybe she’ll think you’re a stalker. Don’t overthink it! Just walk up to her and say something. She is reading her book. Ask what she is reading. Slow down. You are 25 feet away. You are 20 feet away. You are 15 feet away. You are 10 feet away. She is just waiting for some guy to talk to her. That guy could be you. Do it.
You stop in front of her to look at your watch. Look up! you are thinking. Look up, pretty girl! I’m here. Look up!
If she looks at me, you think, I’ll smile and maybe she’ll smile back and then I’ll be able to say something to her. What will I say? “I saw you sitting there all pretty and appealing and I just had to talk to you.” No, that’s too much. It’s too trite. A lot of guys say such things. If I compliment her about her looks, she’ll think I am just some creep buttering her up to have sex with her. “Hi, what are you reading.” Yes, express an interest in her mind. She’ll like that. But be more polite. “Hi. May I ask what you’re reading?” That’s better. No, she may not want to answer a question right off. Just say, “Hello.” Hello is neutral. Say “Hello,” and if she looks up and smiles, that will be a green light.
You pause a bit longer, eying your watch.
She’s not going to look up, you think. Her eyes are looking down at the book. Her long lashes are calmly hiding her eyes. She heard your footsteps but she didn’t look up and she doesn’t want you to talk to her. Look at those frightened eyelashes. They are too still. They are scared. If you talk to her, she’ll reject you. Maybe she’s too pretty for you. But maybe not. Maybe she isn’t looking up because she’s absorbed in her book. Say something. If you don’t try, nothing can happen.
“Excuse me.” The words leak out of you at the last minute. But the leak is only scared mumble and she doesn’t hear you.
She doesn’t want to hear you! you think. It was a mumble but it was loud enough.
You walk by her and head toward the park exit.
You idiot! You fool! Why did you do that? She has probably looked up by now and noticed that you were too much of a nerd to say something loud enough for her to hear. She is looking at your back right now. She probably noticed that you passed her by and is probably laughing at you. What a nerd, she is thinking. He didn’t have the balls to talk to me, she is thinking. She is looking at your back and shaking her head. “What a silly man!” she is saying.
Just keep walking casually, you are thinking. Look up at the trees like you are just taking a walk on a summer day in New York and you are admiring the trees and the blue jays on the branches and the pigeons running around on the sidewalks below. If she is looking, you need to make a good impression. She needs to see that you are not there to pick up girls or to pick up her or anything; you are there just to take a nice walk and get some exercise. She needs to see that you’re not just another guy trying to pick her up. You are a nice man walking in the park. Stand for a minute and look up at the blue jays. Smile at the blue jays. Perhaps she is still looking at you and sees that you are a nice man, not a stalker, a nice man who is interested in blue jays.
That’s it, just keeping walking, you tell yourself. Walk through the park and out of the park. Walk slowly, as if you are enjoying the park, but keep walking out of the park. Walk around the corner. Walk out of sight. Now, you can stop and catch your breath. Lean on that railing and catch your breath. Over there is Eighth Street. Think about Eighth Street, don’t think about her. There’s the Eight Street Book Store. You love book stores. Books will take your mind off of her. Walk in and look at the books. You can buy a book, then go back to the park and let her see that you are not only a bird lover but also a book lover. You can sit on a bench near her and read your book. That’s it. That’s exactly what you should do. She will sit on her bench and you will sit on your bench and you will both be reading books and form an instant kinship of book reading.
You stroll around the Eighth Street Book Store. There’s the fiction section. That book looks interesting, you think. Pick it up and look at it. Pan by Knut Hamson. Yes, you like the way it starts. You like the way it feels in your hands—a paperback but a heavy paperback. You like the cover, a man looking up like a wolf at a full moon. You read through the first few pages. Ah! you think. He is a solitary man who is living in the woods and enjoys the scent of roots. That’s interesting: the scent of the roots. You never thought of the smell of roots when you walked in the woods. You like it. It is going to be a dark romance about a dark man who lives all alone in the woods and steps on twigs and smells roots. Buy that. He is like you. You are a dark man who lives in the city and smells burned pavement, but you’d prefer to live in the woods and smell roots.
You go to the cash register and buy the book, eying the blond girl behind the counter and wondering if she likes you. She gives you your change and turns away to talk to the coworker beside her. She’s not interested in you, you think. You feel a bit annoyed at her for not being interested in you.
Outside, you hold the book in your right hand as you walk around the corner. Walk quickly, you think. Hurry before she’s gone. Maybe when you didn’t stop to talk with her, she got tired of waiting for a man to get to know her in the park. When you get around the corner, you will be able to see if she’s still there. You are almost at the corner. You are past the corner. Yes! there she is! Maybe she’s waiting for you to return. Or maybe she fears you will return. Keep walking. Walk into the park. Don’t make it obvious that you are walking toward her. Take the circular path.
Just stroll along the sidewalk, you think. Don’t look at her. Don’t scare her away. Walk straight to that bench next to her. Nobody is sitting on it. That bench will be all yours. That’s right, walk casually to the bench. Now sit politely on the bench. You are not there to bother her, just to read your book. Sit down. Open your book. Don’t look at her. She’s reading her book. Her eye lashes are thick and very still. She is afraid you are going to bother her, but you are giving her space. Yes, that’s right. Politely sit on the next bench and calmly read your book. Read the first sentence. “These last few days I have thought and thought of the Nordland summer’s endless day.” Great first sentence. It takes you right into the story. It makes you wonder why he is thinking about the Nordland summer’s endless day. Does he remember when he strolled down a trail and smelled the roots at some time in the past? You sit on the bench and read your book and think: does she see me reading my book?
You glance at the girl. She is so beautiful. She is smiling and her brown eyes are bright and lovely as she reads her book. Her thin lips are pursed. Her braided pigtails are dangling exquisitely over her blouse. Her blue cotton summer dress hangs nicely on her young, firm body. The tops of her small, pubescent breasts puff out from the top of her neckline. She is a sparkling little wood nymph, you think. Someday maybe I will take her to the woods to smell the roots. Someday maybe I will kiss her thin lips in the woods and taste her young, female mouth. Someday maybe I will hold her hand as I walk through the woods. No, don’t think about that! Read your book.
You glance at her again. She looks to be about twenty-three or twenty-four. You are thirty, but you don’t look like you are thirty. People tell you that you look like you are eighteen.
Your heart is pounding. Talk to her, you think. Ask her about her book.
No, you can’t talk to her unless she looks up. Those are the rules. She has to give you a sign that she wants to be talked to. Wait until she smiles at you and then say something to her.
You glance at her again and just as you are about to turn away, she looks up from her book, sees you, and gives you the biggest, friendliest smile you have ever seen. She turns her head directly toward you and presses her thin lips together and they widen into a wondrous smile. Then she goes back to her book. There is still a smile on her lips as she reads her book.
She wants you to talk to her! you think. What should you do now? Say something! Say something before the moment goes away. Do it! Do it, you idiot! Take the plunge.
You glance at her and try...
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