Champ

A few weeks ago I learned about an 8-ball league that meets every Monday night. I enjoy shooting pool, loathe 8-ball, but wanted to meet some new people, so, in the end, I decided to sign up. There are a wide-range of characters at this thing, from attractive, intellectual, aspiring graduate students such as myself, to shady looking old men that look like they probably carry a concealed knife.

Tonight, as I was playing my match, I noticed an attractive young brunette had gotten a table by herself. She had a warm, heart-shaped face, and long hair that started straight but curled as it fell down her back. She was on the petite side with a somewhat curvaceous figure. As the Black-Eyed Peas roared in the background, I was led to wonder: indeed, what is she gon' do with all that junk? All that junk inside her trunk?

Now, I've always been a bit of a ladies' man. I'm sorry, let me rephrase. I've never been much of a ladies' man (see post about Middle School). I can remember the first time I went to a club in college with my roommates. There were gorgeous girls, scantily clad, shaking their bodies in ways I never knew possible. I probably just stood there, jaw gaping, awe-struck. Now, there are those guys that can stand around in a joint like this looking smooth, nodding their head rhythmically, expressing subtle enjoyment of the music, looking aloof, as if to say, "Yeah, I like this music, but I'm not excited enough to really dance to it." Some women apparently find this attractive and mysterious. When I, on the other hand, stand aloof, nodding recklessly, I manage to accomplish one of two things: disappearing into the background as a faceless statue, or appear uncomfortably out of place. No, I can't be the cool guy standing quietly against the column, while his presence calls out for glances from the women around. But give me my trumpet and a feather-plumed hat and I'll march a God-damn ellipse around that guy.

But tonight, I was in a pool hall. This is my house. People tend to notice me shooting pool and they think to themselves, This kid shoots like a fucking champion. I know this because I frequently have people coming up to me asking if I gamble (which I don't). Anyways, I was in a little bit of a hurry to finish my match so I might approach this girl. I won't go into details and bore you with pool hall jargon like "pulling off a reverse bank along the short-side to the side pocket with just enough top-right english to throw the cue-ball three rails and get perfect shape on the eight" (man, that sounds cool -- I wish had done that). But suffice it to say, I won my match . . . because I was shooting like a fucking champion.

I went over to my teammate Jud who was about to start his match and mentioned that I was going to ask this girl to shoot a few games. He informed me casually that he knew her, and that she used to play pool a lot. He also mentioned that her previous boyfriend was Asian and shot pool. My eyes, widened. "Jud," I said. "I don't know if you've noticed--but I'm Asian and like to shoot pool!" He nodded in agreement that I should definitely head over there. So I did.

As I strolled over, I imagined myself as if on camera, strutting in slow-motion right out of Ocean's 25. I said nonchalantly, "Hi, would you like to shoot a few games?" Given the nodded approval of Jud, I assumed maybe an inviting smile, followed by a quiet affirmation.

"No, thanks," she said. No thanks? I thought to myself. It was difficult to comprehend, given the information to which I had just been made privy.

"That's cool," I said, acting as if it didn't bother me. My spoken words were, "That's cool." But my attitude said, Are you kidding me? Now, I wasn't expecting to get a phone number or anything--Hell, I'm usually lucky to come out with a name. But a flat refusal to shoot a few games? That's just rude! Didn't she realize who I was? I should have busted out my C.V. right then and there--"Yeah, that's right! Harvard, baby! how do you like them apples?" (Did I mention I'm not much of a ladies' man?) I told Jud what had happened and he was as shocked as I was. Later, I spoke with my other teammate Anne about it who apparently knew her also, and she, too was surprised.

"That's weird," Anne said. "She's usually very nice." Feeling somewhat satisfied that I was justified in my surprise, I started wondering what could have prompted her to say no. Now, there are some sketchy looking people in the pool hall, but I had come from work (though casually dressed--I like to make Mondays a casual day in addition to Wednesdays, Thursdays and Fridays), so I didn't look disheveled or mischievous. Maybe it was just instinct to say no to random guys that approached her, but if she caught sight of me again, she probably would realize what an egregious mistake she had made. She wasn't there with anyone, so it wouldn't have hurt to shoot a couple innocent games. Maybe her previous boyfriend had given Asian pool players a bad name and she just couldn't stand the thought of being around another one. In the end, I decided that she probably saw me shooting earlier, and was far too intimidated to play with a champion. She probably is very competitive and doesn't like to lose. That must be it.

At the end of the night, I noticed that someone had joined her after all. He was just a white guy, And he didn't even play pool . . .