Ya come here often?

OK. So I recognize that it's incredibly difficult for guys to approach girls in public places and try to drum up conversation. But there are, at least, venues at which we're more likely to be receptive. A bar, for example. Or maybe a party. Or a coffee shop. Hell, at the tiger exhibit at the zoo. But not the beach. Not while I'm lying there in a bikini, feeling a little exposed anyway, and I can see your hard-on under your shorts.

Old Becky and I were at the shore today, being unusually unobnoxious for us. We were lying out reading, when all of a sudden something cast a shadow over my sun.

I looked up from my New York Times Magazine, and a guy smiled down at me and said, "Ya readin'?"

"Um... I was?" I said.

"Whaddaya got there? The New York Times Magazine?" he asked.

"Yup."

He smiled and leaned closer to me.

"I'm Steve," he said, extending his hand for me to reach up and shake.

Please keep in mind that I was not sitting in a chair or in any sort of position that would allow for this not to be an awkward position.

"Erica," I said, quickly shaking his hand before returning to my magazine.

"Where are you from?" he asked.

And I hate that question. Because I'm *from* L.A. I *live* in New Jersey. Which is probably what people mean most of the time they ask where you're from. But I'm conditioned to respond to that question with, "L.A.," which tends to cause confusion. So...

"L.A.," I said, and quickly realized that that was the wrong answer because it would bring the inevitable what-are-you-doing-here question and elongate this already unwelcome conversation. "But I live in Edison now."

"Ohhh!" he said, excited because he apparently decided this means we have a connection after all. "I used to live in New Brunswick!! One town over!!!"

"Actually it's two towns over," I said.

"Oh." A pause. "So do you come here often?"

"No," I said.

At that point Becky burst out laughing.

"Oh," he said. "I come here sometimes. So what kind of music do you like?"

I put an end to the atrocity right about then, telling him I liked all kinds of music but that I really didn't want to talk about my musical tastes. I ensured him it'd been great meeting him and all but I really did want to find out what was going to happen next in the magazine I was reading. He looked confused for a second and then walked away.

Now. Again, I respect that it's difficult to come up to a girl, and I recognize it's difficult to know what to say once you *do* come up to her. But I'm not sure what makes someone think that approaching a girl lying on the beach and reading, and asking her if she's reading is a good idea.

It baffles me. That's all.