The Attentions of an Attractive Young Woman

I like eating lunch, alone, at restaurants. When I get the chance to do it, I take a book with me and I enjoy an hour of peace, reading, and eating (three of my four five six favorite things). Really, that’s about the only opportunity I have time to read a book nowadays -– my evenings are taken up with writing.

The best waiters/waitresses are those who see and understand that I’m reading, so they don’t interrupt me unless it’s necessary. Occasionally, though, I get a Chatty Cathy who must think it’s very sad that I’m all alone at a restaurant. The worst cases are when they try to start up conversations with me every time they come to refill my tea. The least bad cases are when they ask me what I’m reading, “Oh, cool. Is it good?“, and they may actually have something interesting to say about the book, genre, or subject.

Yesterday I had a Chatty Cathy waitress. To make it more interesting, and more telling of me, she was a very attractive (I’d even say “hot”), young woman. It’s a strong sign that I’m getting too old when I get annoyed when an attractive young woman tries to talk to me. After she interrupted my reading the first time, and I pretty much broke the interruption quickly to resume my book, I thought about it.

You just had a young hottie trying to chat with you, and you ornery old man shrugged it off. You’re such a jackass.

The next time she came by and tried to chat, I consciously forced myself to be friendly and receptive of the attention. Then she asked, “So, what are you reading?”

I flipped the book around and up so she could see the cover: Sniper by Adrian Gilbert. The cover picture is looking up the business end of a scoped rifle. Yeah, I fully realize the weird vibe that might give someone who doesn’t know me and my normal interests.

“Oh,” she said. Her expression showed she didn’t know how to take this revelation.

“It’s historical,” I said. (It’s about the history of military sniping, including the tactics and tools.)

“I like historical fiction,” she said. “I’ve liked Uncle Tom’s Cabin and The Grapes of Wrath. But that one was hard to get into.”

“Yeah,” I said, “That’s pretty . . . complicated.” (I’ve not read either of those books.)

She continued the small talk for a couple of more minutes, and I tried to not be an ass and dismiss her attention and conversation. But, you know, chatting with a young woman is not as . . . exciting . . . for me now as it was twenty years ago. The conversation never grabbed my interest, and there was no experienced intelligence behind the good looks.

Eventually she broke off the chat and went about her other business. Thank goodness. I couldn’t hold my friendly smile much longer. With a sigh of relief, I went back to my book:

The technological advances in weapon design made during the nineteenth century paradoxically worked against the sniper as well as for him. Whereas in the battles of the previous wars armies fought as large bodies of formed men in the open, by 1900 increases in firepower made this no longer necessary or feasible; indeed, to do so invited almost certain annihilation. Troops made use of the terrain’s protective features at all times, digging entrenchments whenever natural cover was absent. In the period before the outbreak of the First World War military commentators began to talk of the “empty battlefield”, where soldiers fought in small groups dispersed over wide areas. No longer could a marksman level his Whitworth rifle –- as had happened during the American Civil War –- against the crew of an artillery field piece, clearly visible a thousand yards away. Targets had become much smaller and more difficult to hit, especially now that brightly coloured uniforms had been replaced by khaki, field grey and olive drab. Thus, despite the improved accuracy of rifles, snipers were often forced to operate at more limited ranges to ensure a kill.

— page 36, Sniper, by Adrian Gilbert

Bullgrit