Pick-me-up

Often times I wonder just why it is that I'm perpetually cursed with the lack of ability to pick up.

It seems no matter where I am, what time of day or who I'm with, I never really get chatted up or any other forward motion. OK, I know that you're thinking, "Steve, you have a boyfriend, why are you even thinking about this?" But it's relevant to a story I'd like to share about my time in London.

The funny thing about it is that Aaron (my BF) and I both feel like we're in the same boat. As we were getting to know each other, he described many similar things to me, including the lack of attention he felt when out and about. Unless we're mistaken, neither of us has been truly 'picked up'. Aaron has told me stories about sitting alone at a bar after work, sipping a martini and trying to look busy, hoping all the while that someone would sit down beside him and strike up a conversation. It never happened.

I guess it goes without saying that both of us would be hesitant to do the picking up ourselves. Aaron is quite shy in his natural state, and not very forward when it comes to dating. I would say the same about myself, that I would rather a guy approach me than have to casually chat someone up.

Part of it, surely, is being unaware. I often wonder how people unlock that awareness within themselves, to see flirtations at their face value and to easily navigate the talk to a favourable outcome. Unfortunately, even though I'm now 23, I still feel like a very naive teenager when it comes to such things.

But one night in London I tried putting that all behind me and took a half-step towards the great pickup.

My friend Ash and I were out for dinner in Soho, but decided to poke around the neighbourhood before sitting down to eat. We grabbed a pint, then walked the 'seedy streets' of sex shops. I found one that looked particularly nice, and particularly gay, and we went in to check it out.

Inside was much the same as any sex-related store worldwide, and we immediately set out sizing the place up. We found some nice underwear on sale, and Ash bought her straight friend a birthday present of (quite sexy) briefs with some pink lining. Apparently he isn't one to wear pink, or briefs.

As we walked around, the guy behind the counted began talking to us. He was cute, late-20's, and seemed genuine and friendly. For some reason I got a good vibe from him, a natural pull that went beyond just simple surface attraction.

When we walked deeper into the shop and out of earshot, I told Ash just how cute the shopboy was. "There's something about him that's really got a pull," I said, feeling a little fluttery. "He's damn cute too!"

She agreed, and angled me towards the counter. Ash is no shrinking violet, and is about as outgoing as one can get. She forced us into a conversation about Canada and my visit and about the underwear I was planning on buying there. We chatted for a solid 10 minutes before finally making our purchases and walking out.

For his part, the shopboy seemed to be engaged in the conversation, but my hopes of him sporadically asking me out were dashed as we walked out the door. "Damn, and there was something about this guy…" I said, trailing off into my imagination.

"So, you'd go on a date with him, if he was free," Ash asked, giving me a burning look.

"Uh, sure," I said, "but he didn't seem all that interested, I mean, he never said anything…"

By now we'd sat at our restaurant table and ordered another beer. Ash sat looking at me quizzically for a moment, then leaned forward. "If you want, I'll go back and ask him out for you," she said.

I put on a bit of a 'oh please' show for her, but deep down I genuinely wanted to see what she could set up. I finally agreed, and she skipped out the door and back to the shopboy.

For the next few minutes I sat in stunned anticipation. This isn't something that I normally do, or have people push for me to do, but it was exciting and I let myself daydream about a possible date in my near future.

Ash returned and sat across from me again, her face impossible to read.

"Well, first he asked why you didn't come back yourself," she said, "but I explained you're a shy guy."

I nodded along.

"Second, he's actually married, and is 32."

I didn't really have a problem with the 32 bit, but the marriage thing certainly didn't work.

"Third, they're expecting an adopted child within the next couple months."

This information seemed a little overkill, since I already understood the answer was no.

"But he never said he wasn't interested?" I asked.

"That part he didn't say," Ash smiled. "Sorry, though."

We laughed at my perpetually bad luck, and ordered dinner.