Under the pretence of absentminded scanning, I slowly turn so they can get a better look at me. Eyes scan me up and down. Good sign. It’s always nice to know I’m not a complete heathen. Widen Bambi eyes, purse lips slightly and continue my pretend search down the isle. I just so happen to find what I’m looking for on a lower shelf. Shameless, I know. But as predictable as a puppy, he’s definitely looking. Mental note to self: wear short skirts while grocery shopping more often. I start walking back up the isle towards my would-be voyeur and once again flash the Bambi eyes and blink in surprise as we make eye contact – ‘oh my, I didn’t notice you standing there before, handsome stranger’. Innocent surprise turns into a very brief moment of slight school-girl embarrassment (occasionally accompanied by a downward glance) followed by a smile which starts off more laugh-at-myself but ends up sitting comfortably at a nice-to-meet-you smile. Transitions so smooth and brief they seem genuinely spontaneous. Looks so classically textbook, he feels like he knows you already, can read your mind.
The slight ego boost accompanied by the self-satisfaction of believing he has some great interpersonal skill, or heaven forbid, ‘a connection’ with you, makes him feel confident, the ringleader, ‘the man’. The feeling of control over the situation, obviously including the belief that he orchestrated this casual but interesting encounter, allows him to feel he divided and conquered, despite the fact that he had no idea he was actually pursuing a quest (i.e. you) in the first place. The next logical step, whether he consciously realizes he’s acting on it or not, is to go in for the kill on this until-a-moment-ago unsuspecting girl. It’s biology, evolution. So natural, instinctive. Predator and prey. Seductive and seduced.
Little does he suspect that while he thinks he’s playing with a full hand, you’ve got a few aces up your sleeve.
xoxo
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