Age of Information

Loosely Inspired by "The Sphynx Without A Riddle" by Oscar Wilde.

Ray Betchner is a reasonably attractive person. He does well on standardized tests and only suffers from anxiety and depression when doing so would be charming and interesting. He is as naturally tan as he is successful, and all of his ex-girlfriends try to maintain friendships with him and he allows them to. His taste is so diverse as to include just about any movie, band, activity, and food item available to him.

The other night he inadvertently found the Facebook profile of this beautiful young lady who works at a cafe he frequents. Her name is Jaime, he was able to recognize her solely from her eyes, specifically this soulful glance she gives Ray most days when he takes his order from her and departs. While it hadn't been on his mind that much before finding her profile, now it was all he could think about. She distributes charming bits of conversation that are often the odd coloured pieces that probably form a mosaic of her personality, so reading her interests will give him an edge over other guys (if used properly). He is past the age of knowing better than to try to pick up waitresses, bartenders, hairdressers...
anybody who works for tips. He is also way too young to be desperate enough to forget that fact, but he feels this is an extenuating circumstance since he can create a special encounter with this person based on his knowledge about her.

Finding her profile was a high level of fulfillment to him. She is as exotic as a white girl can look; humbly curvaceous with evenly fair skin, teal eyes that come to immeasureable points. You could probably pick her bare skull out of a line-up after just a few careful glances at her face. Ray never looked that close though, her face and those hips seemed to be the only possible companions of carelessness and indulgence. Her facebook profile confirmed this, but it also added an intriguing depth, a personality that must be full of rampaging philosophy and excitingly distorted and impossible idealism. Alternative medicine, athiesm, anarchy, lofty ambitions, and quotes far outside the scope of her community college drop-out status that she seems completely proud of. All the while she was so composed and careful, so sweet and quaint. He wanted to fuck her. He saw her as a silently neglected towering bonfire and he wanted to throw some of himself into it to see the reaction, he wanted to be a tourist in her frivolity.

He arrives earlier than usual for his morning dosage, to allow room for conversation. He is carrying plenty of unnecessary objects so that in order to find his wallet, he needs to put one of them down on the counter. The first book listed in her profile is "The Truth About Flagrant Uselessness" by Hartley Mangrove, which he tenderly drops onto the counter with an almost gratifying slap, just the right volume to attract her attention. To add extra character, he uses a coffee stir as a book marker, it sticks out a good three inches. Two ace conversation starters staring her down. Her mind must be blown. She looks right at the book and looks into his money as though it were time and says, "Well you're here early!" He doesn't know exactly what to say or where to steer the conversation from there... so he simply reacts. "Wow, I feel flattered that you recognize what time I usually come here." She smiles towards her left boob which is pointing roundly towards the tip jar. "Well, I usually time my first cigarette break right after the rush of people that you usually come in with." Ray is grateful for something that isn't totally pre-recorded. "So you're saying that I drive you to smoke? I better not get sued when you get lung cancer!" Morbid, yes... but so is that book she likes. She laughs and hands him his drink and bids him to have a good day with that glance that he can't get enough of as a line starts to form to his right.

Definitely not a victory, but maybe a seed was planted? He wanted to draw her true colours out by example. he was hinting at a dark side that he kept hidden, hoping that she would reciprocate and confide in him.

This time he goes there for lunch. Like most coffee houses, the non-pastry fare is small portions of pompous deli items on stale "artisan" bread with sauce placated to believe that it is more than mustard with mayonaise. Jaime offered a surpised pleasantry as he waked in, and since like most pleasantries it required an equally sincere response, he cringed as he explained that he always wanted to go there for lunch since the menu items looked so interesting. He is trying to find some way to inject random normal statements with recreational dissonance, just to get onto her personal side. He orders and takes a seat just within "conversation possible" distance and just outside of "why is he sitting right by me without having something specific to talk about" distance from her. When his food arrives, he takes a few bites and 7 seconds after completing mastication asks her about any local shows, hoping she would mention a band from her profile in the mix. After several bands he hadn't seen, he jumps on one and gives an engineered explanation of why he likes them. "I love the Filthy Scott Farkus Sheets. They got me through a bad breakup years ago. They remind me to change the little annoying crap in my life." "I know what you mean", she says, "They are very hopeful and yet always sould like they are on the verge of chaos. I have to be in the mood for them though." Ray's feet were curled under themselves as he asked if she was going to the show. She continues looking at the floor and then at the register and says she possibly would see him there. He starts pushing the conversation towards phone numbers, but she rips off a sheet of paper with her Facebook on it before he can get that far. He immediately notices that the last name doesn't match the one he found! He pays and exits with an anchorman smile and, leaning against the brick wall in the alley goes online. It was an entirely different person whose profile he saw. He looked at he real profile... she has no alter ego aside from that of a hard working, unpretentious girl working through grad school. Knowing this and seeing her mysterious beauty makes him want her even more. She is exactly what he would actually want to be with. She is stable and in control of her life, open minded, and physically turns him on in obvious ways and oblique ways he will never forget or fully understand.

The he remembers, what about the other Jaime? How did he confuse the two? How could two people have that stare? He finds Internet Jaime's page and stares at those eyes. They are slightly different, but they do have something in common with Cafe Jaime. Internet Jaime isn't giving an emotive, soulful stare. She is fronting a meaningful stare into a camera, trying to broadcast a temporary amiable look, trying to hide a feeling of disconnect or annoyance while she moves on. So was Cafe Jaime, every time someone paid and left. Sadly he knows he could have maybe gotten along well with her, but there is now way he can retract the needy, angstly, ego-troubled and conflicted image of himself he flashed her with. Ray will not go to the Filthy Scott Farkus Sheets show and he will not visit the cafe anymore.