A comic fiction.
Bob wondered whether being selective made him attractive. It was a question with obvious practical limitations: if he asked a woman and she said no, he would still not know whether she meant his theory or Bob.
He began with his three cats. They demonstrated selectivity every day and enjoyed considerable popularity in his apartment. Unfortunately, they declined to discuss their methods.
His next opportunity came at the supermarket salad bar. Bob was avoiding the thick ends of lettuce leaves. Beside him, a woman was carefully selecting peppers. Their hands met near the tongs, the most romantic implement either had encountered that afternoon.
“Do you think being this particular makes us appealing?” he asked.
“It makes this take longer,” she said, then laughed.
Bob considered the exchange promising evidence. His friend Emily pointed out that she might simply have enjoyed the joke. Paul suggested the supermarket would appreciate a conclusion before closing.
The distinction was becoming awkwardly clear. Bob could have preferences because they mattered to him, or advertise his preferences because he hoped they would impress someone. Only the first approach helped him decide whom he actually wanted to know.
He never obtained a universal answer about women. This was disappointing for his research program but reassuring for everyone who might otherwise have been included in its findings.
He did leave with a good salad and a useful question for his next date: was he enjoying her company, or merely hoping she admired how difficult he was to impress?
