There's a warm breezing blowing the stars around...
I spent this weekend in Oklahoma – I know I was in Oklahoma because as soon as I stepped off the plane, I saw an advert for a car which read “Bigger, shinier and wrapped in more leather than your favorite belt buckle.” Ah, Oklahoma – as much as I love to tease you, you are still home and I feel more comfortable with you than anywhere else in the world.
But that’s not the point of this entry. Because I was in Oklahoma, I didn’t go to a star watching party on Saturday – but four of my friends did, including Sarah. Now this reminds me of a story which is far too good not to tell, despite the fact that it ends up being quite embarrassing for me.
Without delving into too much detail, I have dated…well, let’s just say I have dated ‘a few’ women in my life. Any budding relationship will either blossom or die in the phase just after ‘introduction’ and just before ‘smooching’ – the wooing phase (yes – I just used the word ‘wooing’). There are many ways to woo, and we wooers generally choose a few favorites and stick to them.
On more than one occasion, I have found myself walking outside at night with a particular young lady and, resorting to one of my standard methods, I have begun pointing out constellations. I don’t know if it is because it makes me look smart of if starlight has some sort of drug in it – all I know is you point up at the sky, rattle off some Greek mythology, and the next thing you know, smoochie-time. So through the years, many a young lady has been taken by my ability to point out the Big Dipper, the North Star, Orion’s belt, the Little Dipper, etc, and these evenings have generally ended well for both of us.
Now – fast forward to graduate school. I was pursuing a girl we’ll call V, and found myself walking back to the dormitory with V and Sarah. Being the shameless flirt that I am, I began pointing out constellations with Sarah right there. V was very impressed, cuddled up to me, and listened intently as I guided her gaze across a beautiful northern California sky. I showed her how to find the North Star using the big Dipper as a guide, then how to find Orion’s belt along with his sword and bow, and then I pointed out the Little Dipper. V was putty in my hands when Sarah, who had certainly been rolling her eyes and shaking her head the whole time interjected – “THAT’S NOT THE LITTLE DIPPER – THOSE ARE THE SEVEN SISTERS!”
*SNAP*
Just like that, the spell was broken. V was no longer impressed, I was no longer headed for smoochdom, and Sarah – well I can’t say that I’ve ever seen her happier!
“Yes it is!” – I thought maybe I could find some pathway back into the zone.
“No it isn’t! THAT’S the Little Dipper” said Sarah and she pointed to another clump of stars which looked like…well, like a Little Dipper.
But that’s not the point of this entry. Because I was in Oklahoma, I didn’t go to a star watching party on Saturday – but four of my friends did, including Sarah. Now this reminds me of a story which is far too good not to tell, despite the fact that it ends up being quite embarrassing for me.
Without delving into too much detail, I have dated…well, let’s just say I have dated ‘a few’ women in my life. Any budding relationship will either blossom or die in the phase just after ‘introduction’ and just before ‘smooching’ – the wooing phase (yes – I just used the word ‘wooing’). There are many ways to woo, and we wooers generally choose a few favorites and stick to them.
On more than one occasion, I have found myself walking outside at night with a particular young lady and, resorting to one of my standard methods, I have begun pointing out constellations. I don’t know if it is because it makes me look smart of if starlight has some sort of drug in it – all I know is you point up at the sky, rattle off some Greek mythology, and the next thing you know, smoochie-time. So through the years, many a young lady has been taken by my ability to point out the Big Dipper, the North Star, Orion’s belt, the Little Dipper, etc, and these evenings have generally ended well for both of us.
Now – fast forward to graduate school. I was pursuing a girl we’ll call V, and found myself walking back to the dormitory with V and Sarah. Being the shameless flirt that I am, I began pointing out constellations with Sarah right there. V was very impressed, cuddled up to me, and listened intently as I guided her gaze across a beautiful northern California sky. I showed her how to find the North Star using the big Dipper as a guide, then how to find Orion’s belt along with his sword and bow, and then I pointed out the Little Dipper. V was putty in my hands when Sarah, who had certainly been rolling her eyes and shaking her head the whole time interjected – “THAT’S NOT THE LITTLE DIPPER – THOSE ARE THE SEVEN SISTERS!”
*SNAP*
Just like that, the spell was broken. V was no longer impressed, I was no longer headed for smoochdom, and Sarah – well I can’t say that I’ve ever seen her happier!
“Yes it is!” – I thought maybe I could find some pathway back into the zone.
“No it isn’t! THAT’S the Little Dipper” said Sarah and she pointed to another clump of stars which looked like…well, like a Little Dipper.
I bet you can finish the story from here. I went home alone - so did V and Sarah. However, I went home with my tail between my legs, V went home thinking "what a dork" and Sarah laughed all the way back to her apartment.
That night, I looked up the Little Dipper on-line. Not surprisingly, Sarah was right. As I fell asleep that night, I couldn't help but think of all the girls spread around the world who are convinced of an astronomical error!
posted by Nicholas at 1:11 PM
<< Home