Still No Luck at the Food Court, No Matter How He Tries to Impress Her

In the months following my fateful encounter at the supermarket with a potentially great girl, all potential has surely evaporated. Actually, evaporated might be too generous a description.

After approaching that girl several months ago and then following up with an e-mail invitation, I held out a narrow hope that maybe her "personal issues" and work-related duties would lighten up, especially if she checked my references via our mutual friend. Perhaps after crossing paths in informal, yet comfortable, settings at the food court or along the aisles of the grocery store, she might eventually warm up to more formalized social contact.

If this interesting girl I call "Merry" got to know me through ordinary, non-threatening conversations, or even an e-mail or two, maybe we would have a shot. There was a glimmer of hope, even in her e-mail that shot down my invitation. Sometimes, we tend to hold on to those kinds of scraps, even if it was just someone being polite.

About a month after being shot down, I found myself back at the food court, and there she was. I strolled over and said hello. She was not hard at work on her laptop at that moment, but, as I approached, I saw that she was on her cell phone.

Unfortunately, she was holding it on her other side, so I couldn't see that she was on the phone as I approached. By the time I realized it, it was too late. Turning and walking away after strolling all the way through the labyrinthine food court would have been embarrassing and about as awkward as standing there watching her on the phone.

She covered her cell and whispered that she was on the phone with her mother. I waved and said I'd come back later to say hi.

I did my grocery shopping and went home.

Sure, talking to your mom is important. But she could have called her back. My mom would certainly have understood a call back in a situation like that. Everyone has different telephone etiquette. For all I know, she was pretending to be on the phone to avoid a conversation.

A couple of weeks later, I was eating at the food court one Sunday night after a soccer game, when Merry strolled in with her laptop and books while talking with someone who appeared to be a law student. I got a subtle, polite wave from across the room.

The grocery store food court, where I've enjoyed meals for almost 18 years, was slowly but surely becoming an uncomfortable venue.

The coup de gras with Merry came a couple of months after that when we were coming toward each other at the store. I had completed my shopping, had sneaked a red Swedish fish out of the bulk candy section under the auspices of a "free taste test," and was heading for the checkout.

There she was, about 50 feet away, rolling her empty cart. It could have been a game of chicken right out of "Rebel Without a Cause." When she looked up and saw me, she bolted down the first aisle she passed. Her jerky, hard-right turn to avoid me was pretty obvious.

Her evasion was so obvious that it was almost impossible for me not to take it personally. Upon further investigation through some other mutual acquaintances, I was reassured that I should not read it this way -- that despite her outward appearance, this wonderful girl was known to exhibit some quirky personality traits from time to time.

Sure, maybe Merry did not like me from the outset. She could have been so repulsed by my appearance or even my name -- as one reader recently suggested -- that it was totally about me.

I ran the entire chain of events past several members of my "Council on Female Affairs" -- close female friends who span a wide range of ages and professions, two with some expertise in psychological issues -- to see if I somehow had crossed a line and acted improperly.

They could not find anything to criticize with what I described and advised me to just let it go, which I've tried to do.

Lately, I still see Merry at the food court, especially during those months when my kitchen was out of commission for major remodeling work. Our relationship has bypassed the awkward stage and has evolved to the point where we now pretend not so see one another.

It's all too bad, especially because the food there is not only diverse but pretty good. But I think I need to find someplace else to eat and definitely someone else to eat with.

Roy S. Gutterman is a Syracuse, N.Y.-based writer. To contact him, visit: www.Lrev.com.