The Approach

A short story by Chris Nicholson

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I know, I understand: it’s always tricky. Everything’s tricky. The timing of the approach, the manner of the approach; you never know how it’s going to pan out. You have to be careful, really careful.

At this very moment, for instance, over there, by the window. That’s the one. You can’t see her that clearly in the shadows, but she’s there all right. I’ve been watching for days and days, weighing up my options, sifting the possibilities. I admit, I’ve become a bit obsessed, a touch infatuated. Should I go for it or not? Might be a big mistake: she’s big, much bigger than me.  Stronger than me. They always are.

It’s the same for you, you reckon. Where? That one! Also by the window! What a coincidence!

You’re not sure if this is a good time to make a move? No, me neither. But I do have some experience in these matters; permit me, if I may, to ask you a few questions. First, is she aware of your existence? You think she may be, you think she may not be. Exactly the same for me. Second, are you aware of anyone else who may be considering an approach? Or of anyone who may currently be approaching her? In short, do you have any rivals? I ask only because rivals can cause all kinds of complications. It’s probably not a good thing for you to make an approach if she’s already with one of your rivals, unless you’re very confident.

You’re not very confident? That’s no bad thing; over-confidence is so often fatal. What’s needed, above all, are good judgement and good technique.

You don’t think that there are any rivals but you’re not certain? No, you’re certain that there are no rivals, but you’re worried that one or more may appear if you don’t act quickly. I sympathise with you here. It’s an awful feeling when someone jumps in ahead of you, destroying your plans. It’s happened to all of us. But I’d like to point out that, in your own words, there are no rivals at present. That’s a big positive. Hang on to that. Or, if you prefer, let’s examine the scenario in which, just as you’re making your approach, you become aware of a rival. Now, this rival will be as concerned by the sight of you as you are by the sight of him. So, don’t back off; stand your ground, and make it clear that you have no intention of giving way.  A show of strength is often very effective, in my experience; it’s rare for there to be a fight. With a bit of luck he’ll decide to leave the field. Sometimes, of course, a rival shows up who is stronger than you, and equally determined; in that case, I admit, it may be prudent to beat a temporary retreat. Your chance will come again.

But let’s assume that there are no rivals; you’ve got a clear run. How should you approach her? Timing is obviously critical. In my view, it’s best to approach when she’s preoccupied by something else, when she’s distracted – for instance, when she’s sewing, or eating. When she’s just eaten is the best time, of course. I should have said, very important indeed, never approach if she looks hungry. Never even think of it.

Hungry for sex? I suppose so. It’s not a phrase I feel very comfortable with, to be honest. What does it mean? I see. How very extraordinary. Well, that’s one significant difference between us. I envy you that, I must say.

In terms of approach strategy, there are different schools of thought. Some argue that the essence lies in speed, while others advocate a more painstaking advance. My own advice breaks the approach into two separate phases.

Phase one should always be slow. Rush from a distance, and it’s odds-on she’ll take fright and try to hide. So, slowly does it. Don’t alarm her. She may see you, she may not. She may be a cunning type – pretend that she hasn’t seen you, when she has. If she turns towards you, don’t run away: remain still, keep calm, try to read what’s in her mind. Easier said than done, I know. If she turns towards you and waves her legs in the air, that’s a difficult one, it could mean a number of things.

What? Leg-waving is a definite positive for you, is it? How interesting. I’d have said, based on my experience, that it’s pretty ambiguous. It may be a come-on, but, equally likely, it may be telling you to go away.  It may seem like a come-on, when it’s an invitation to a trap. You need to be wary. If it ever happens to me, the leg-waving, my usual response is to wave back, in the hope that she’ll think that I’m just passing by. Hi. All the best. And on I go.

Frankly, I do my best to avoid being seen, and that’s why I always recommend evenings and nights, when there’s not too much light. Bright mornings and afternoons are definitely to be avoided. Pitch darkness is good, but then you’re relying on your hearing to locate exactly where she is.

Now to phase two. Inevitably, as you get nearer and nearer, however careful you are, however silently you move, there will come a point when you’re detected. Ideally, you need to make your move just before that point, when you still have surprise on your side. That’s the perfect moment. Of course, I admit, it’s not easy, especially for novices, to get the timing right, and it’s not really something that can be taught; it’s a matter of judgement and calculation, which grows with experience. If you go too early, she may run away before you reach her; if you leave it too late, she’ll probably turn to face you, and then you’ll have to use your negotiating skills to extricate yourself. Things can turn pretty nasty. In general, in this second phase, when you move, move quickly, as quickly as possible. Be bold, be decisive.

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Chris’ The Elephant Keeper is published this month and is available at a discount price from most independent book shops.