Things would happen, but not to me.
Oh things are gonna happen naturally.

Jason Mraz, "You And I Both"
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So I'm sitting in my favorite loitering spot: the Barnes & Noble in Westlake Village. Let me tell you, Saturday night at Barnes & Noble is the hot spot... if you're fifteen! While I was sipping on my chai latte and reading about how homosexuals and Jews tended to be at the forefront of both trendiness and bigotry (the chapter was entitled, "Fags and Yids"), a gaggle of high school boys and girls were gathering in the bookstore's cafe to grab a coffee or other late night (10:30pm) snack.

After getting off the phone with Heather, I was sufficiently annoyed with the heightened amount of noise in my loitering spot and I decided to leave. I barely noticed the purse that was hanging on the back of the chair opposite me at the table where I sat. As I packed up, a slightly frazzled woman comes by and claims the purse, wondering aloud how she managed to forget her purse. I tried to make as much eye contact with her as possible so that she wouldn't suspect if anything were stolen, as if to try and subconsciously communicate an idea of Yes, we are all idiots from time to time. Before leaving, I had to wash my hands (I did purchase a small snack from the in-store cafe), so I trekked off to the restroom.

Now for those of you who don't know, I'm actually quite shy. I mean, almost restrictively so, especially around complete female strangers. A girl will probably have to scribble something on a coaster and smack me upside the head in order to get me to notice her. Not notice her in the cute waitress sort of way. I mean notice her as in as an individual, as a real-life person, not just some passerby. I can recall in great detail many many times when I am actually taken by surprise the initiative some women have displayed around me, ranging from, "Oh my god, she's been flirting with me," to "Oh my god, she's kissing me." I'm not very good at that sort of thing. I mentioned the woman with the purse because I made a concerted effort to make eye contact. This sort of thing is rare. I feel much more at ease talking to friendly sommeliers.

At Crown & Anchor, there's a new waitress whose name is Lauren. As my friend Sue puts it, "She's Welsh and she's wonderful," and I do admit that the accent sends my heart atwitter, but there exists a statute of limitations that I must observe. At that instant, I tried conjuring images of Myfanwy to try and mentally wash out the very palpable bad taste in my mouth. Having failed, I make a mental note to completely abhor this woman for the next 15 months but not a day later. I feel much more at ease being resentful of a complete stranger than to engage in the petty act of actually getting to know them.

Back to Barnes & Noble. On the way to the restroom, I passed a young woman in the hallway, and I kept my eyes panned slightly to the side to avoid eye contact. I tried staying as nonchalant as possible and just strolled into the restroom.

Upon entering the restroom, I heard something odd, and things just didn't feel quite right. I turn around the porcelain corner and looked ahead at the stall in front of me. Baby-changing station. To my left at the sink was a person with a skirt. I hastily turned around and went back into the hall. After realizing that no one witness it, I walked into the proper facilities. In the mens room, things were in a noticeably greater amount of disarray. Shreds of paper towel everywhere, pools of water (or other fluids) on horizontal surfaces, and a vague odor in the air. Ah, much better.