The Pick-up Artist

I sat down to enjoy a sugar-free Red Bull and chocolate chip (with walnuts!) cookie, while deciding whether or not to ask the classmate two tables away if our lab section tonight will require us to have the lab manual. I'm a gentleman, so the decision to let her finish her pizza and I my cookie came easily.

It was almost as if that very decision was being clairvoyantly observed by another guy who materialized out of nowhere. Heisenberg would've been proud. He had the "Jee golly, I didn't know I'd find you here!" innocent, introductory tone, and began with the classic: "Hey, aren't you in my (x) class?" I'm an unashamedly admitted voyeur, so this I had to watch.

Now, it's always been one of my guilty pleasures to watch people pick up on others. Ranks right up there with low budget commercials - my number one guilty pleasure - and infomercials - Oxyclean and Bowflex are top-notch. So instead of being the dude that 'cock blocks' this mortal who thinks he's going to pick up on my classmate (apparently he is a mutual classmate of both of us), I let him indulge my patience and her time.

Don't get me wrong, he was a solid 5, maybe 6 since he asked open-ended questions. Very textbook, nothing spectacular. Certainly, nothing I couldn't have come up with in my adolescence, but it was see-through. He was like a bible salesman holding a bible and asking you about sports, the weather and interest rates, all the while you are thinking 'when is he going to make the pitch?'. I was wondering if this was the current state of the dating world. It was a counterfeit pickup. A real pickup is so good the other end doesn't know what hit them. In fact, I've seen some so polished that, even as an observer, I was surprised and blown away. I can give credit where credit is due, but points are reserved for originality.

I got up to use the restroom buried inside the student center buildling, took my time to wash my hands and finished my aluminum dispenser of man-made energy, and walked back outside, only to see them still talking. At this point, I couldn't tell if she was still there and caught in a position of cordiality - we call this 'tarouf' in my language - or whether he was actually getting somewhere with his Jr. Pickup tactics.

I know engineering girls aren't usually put in the same class as poli sci or psych girls, but I expected more of a fight out of her. I'm disappointed. Maybe I should change majors.