The Accidental Wingman

Earlier, I was out for my morning walk. About a mile away from the house, I found myself waiting to cross the street. Suddenly, out of nowhere a young man appeared on a bicycle. He was very thin and I imagine 18 or 19. He was wearing street clothing suggesting that “guy on a bike“ might be more descriptive than perhaps, “cyclist.” He smiled broadly (at my clothing it almost seemed) as if we were old friends. I looked him up and down and could not place him. My task wasn't difficult in that I do not know a huge number of people in that age group. He said "how ya doin', man?" I said "great" and tried to step to the left to clear his bike and cross the street. He extended his left arm and hand out to stop me and offered his hand. Still confused, I shook his hand. Still smiling, he asked “What you been up to? Where you on your way to?” At this point he must have unraveled my nonverbal communication and understood that I needed to know what the heck was going on here. “Man, there’s a girl back there that I want to talk to. Just stand there and pretend you know me,” he pled. I looked down the block and saw the young woman of his intentions. My first thought was that she was way, way, way out of his league. What, was she going to do, ride on his handle bars while her $300.00 pumps swung in the breeze? I looked over at the bike guy and said “I have got to go,” and hurried across the street. He called out to me, “Hey man, you just gonna leave like that?” I pretended not to hear him. To the beautiful woman walking down the street: You’re welcome!