On socwardness (part two)

Man, on the ground, below my office. Walking, slowly, towards one of the tables touched by the almost-sun of the early Norwegian autumn. He is carrying lunch, balancing a fork. Passing a couple of attractive, chatty young ladies. One of the girls laugh - not at him - enough to make his fine-tuned balancing act fall apart. The sound of a fork hitting the ground.


I can see his shoulders heave as he sighs.

Then he bends over - carefully considering the angle so that he will not have to reveal his bu... the crevice between his buttocks.. to the young ladies (not realizing that this instead reveals it to an entire building of lazy academics looking out of their office windows).

He picks up the fork and sighs again.

He wipes the fork off on his trousers, but it is evident that he cannot eat with it now that the young ladies have seen it touching the ground. (The three-second rule only applies when there are no potential hook-ups present.)

The man stumbles back the way he came from, wanting to throw a humorous comment in the young ladies' way as he passes, but feeling too self-conscious to do so. Instead he walks 50 meters or so, until he is out of sight for the people occupying the seating area. He is still unknowingly very visible to the academics in their stuffed offices.

He stands under a tree for the appropriate amount of time spent walking back inside to fetch a new fork. Then he returns to the table he first sought out.

When passing the young ladies he smiles at them, and one of them returns the smile with a promise of sorts.


There is hope, even for the lazy and socially awkward ones.