The following is based on actual events which occurred a number of years ago…
The Single Guy got to a point where he just didn’t like sharing about the women that frequented the bank where he worked. This was mostly because it never really got him anywhere. Let’s take a look at the previous examples:
There was the Girl in the White SUV. After months of debating whether or not he should even bother approaching her, he decided to make a move. Any attempt to make contact with White SUV was met with indifference. Eventually, she stopped coming to the bank altogether.
And then there was the Hostess. The Single Guy befriended her through a certain social network only to discover that she was in a long-term, committed relationship.
So, why try anymore?
But the Single Guy didn’t change anything about himself. He still didn’t go out to meet new people in the Raleigh/Durham area. And attractive women just didn’t stop driving through his lane at the bank. So he still noticed the few that drove up to his window to conduct their everyday business.
This leads us to the Spider-Girl. She was someone that the Single Guy had seen on more than a few occasions. At first, he wasn’t referring to her as Spider-Girl, though. At first, he was calling her the Hot Librarian. And it’s not because she was a librarian. At least, he didn’t think she was a librarian.
She made deposits for her employer, a local business, not a library. From that, the Single Guy assumed that she was not an actual librarian. No, that particularly objectifying moniker came from the girl’s uncanny ability to pull off the horn-rimmed-glasses-and-hair-in-a-bun look. Really, she didn’t just pull it off. She made it look kind of amazing. Like, you kind of hope she’s the one at the front desk at the library and you’re hoping she’ll find some reason to say something to you, so you randomly shout out “BOOKS!” just so she’ll come over and shush you.
The Single Guy had grown more comfortable attempting to talk to the Hot Librarian over time. Not that any deep and meaningful conversations had manifested themselves between the two-inch bullet resistant glass. They were just short blurbs of conversation wherein the Single Guy had been able to showcase his quick and dry wit, inspiring a laugh or two with each of her visits.
Earlier in the week, when she made her usual visit, he was thinking of ways to ask for her name. For one thing, referring to her as the Hot Librarian just seemed wrong. The Single Guy was, of course, aware that that name did tend to objectify her. And he was aware that it was entirely inaccurate, again, because she wasn’t a librarian.
But as he finished her transaction and was about to ask her name, he noticed that she was freaking out about something in her car. “Are you all right?” he asked.
“I think so,” she said, laughing and not too sure of herself. “A spider dropped into my lap and now I don’t know where it went.”
The Single Guy had just seen a video on YouTube about some type of spider in Australia that liked to hide in cars and would startle motorists causing some pretty severe pile-ups. This went through his head as he told the Hot Librarian to be careful driving. “That’s how accidents happen.”
The next day, she returned. When the Single Guy greeted her, she started laughing. He felt a little self-conscious and asked, “Did I miss something?”
“No, I had just forgotten all about that spider until just now.”
The Single Guy laughed along with her and made small talk, assuming she never found the arachnid. He was still unable to get her real name, but he decided to stop referring to her as the Hot Librarian. Spider-Girl seemed a bit more appropriate from that point on.
He still wanted to get her name. Spider-Girl was probably an inaccurate description as well. It was highly unlikely that she could walk on walls or shoot web fluid from her wrists. But that would have been pretty spectacular.