The Pash Equilibrium

In which The Author doesn't bother trying to get his leg over

On Saturday afternoon I called in for a pint while trying to get home between downpours. I'd taken a gamble by leaving my jacket at home, and it hadn't paid off.

My pal Joe was outside having a smoke when I got there; Tony A. was in his usual spot; Joan was at the bar; there were a couple of women playing with the jukebox. They had their backs to the room, obviously, so I couldn't tell who they were at first glance. I bought my beer, sat by Tony to download the weekend crosswords, and then heard someone calling my name.

I looked round and realised who the two women were – my friend Lisa E. and her mother. Lisa used to work in a cafe near my house, so I've known her for quite a few years. She's probably young enough to be my daughter, medium height, slim, and very attractive, with wavy black hair. (She ticks most of my boxes, in other words.) She doesn't come into the pub very often, but when she does she tends to push the boat out in dramatic fashion. We've gone out drinking a couple of times – not planned, we just bumped into each other – and it usually turns into a bit of a silly evening. If anything was going to happen with her and me, it would have happened at least ten years ago. The fact that we're just good friends means that there isn't any complicated history between us – no awkward silences when one of us walks into the pub, no hasty departures while the other person isn't looking … in short, none of the things that hung over from my non-relationship with Jenny.

Anyway, Lisa came over to say hello, insisted that I gave her a kiss, and then sat on my lap while she explained why they were out on the razz. It was her mother's birthday over the weekend, so they'd been for a meal the night before and then hit the pubs early on the Saturday lunchtime.

Anyway, by this time Joe had come back in. He gazed in disbelief at Lisa, who was still perched on my lap, and then made a comment along the lines of, 'You lucky bastard'.

Lisa laughed and went back to talk to her mother. After a few minutes they decided to hit the jukebox again. By now, Joe was grilling me about Lisa: how I knew her, and was she single – that sort of thing. He obviously thought he might have a shout with her.

Lisa called me over to their table and demanded that I gave her another kiss. I teased her that she was getting very dominant in her advancing years. She thought that was hilarious, and I told her I had a couple of books she might want to borrow for inspiration. Her mother already knows I've got a warped sense of humour, so the three of us had a good laugh about it.

Unfortunately for Lisa, Ian L., Byron and Rory also thought they might have a shout with her. While she was choosing her music, she was literally hemmed in by horny pissed Valleys lads (one of whom is only a couple of months younger than me), all vying for her attention. When she went to the bar to get the inevitable Jägerbombs, Joe decided to make his play as well.

I felt really sorry for Lisa, who'd only come in for a drink, and who suddenly found herself at the centre of attention. The whole thing reminded me of an alcohol- (and possibly drug-) fuelled retake of one of the key scenes in A Beautiful Mind.

You know the scene I mean: John Nash and his college pals are sitting in the bar when a group of young women walk in. Immediately they all decide to try and hit on the statuesque blonde at the centre of the group, and start arguing about who should try and get her attention first.

At that moment, Nash has his great breakthrough:

'If we all go for the blonde, we block each other and no one gets her.'

If I learned anything at all from that film, it's that there's absolutely no point trying to get off with a girl when at least four other guys are in the running.

In fact, I'd be surprised if any of them made any progress with Lisa. It's more likely that they frightened her off, by leering in her face and trying to grope her when was standing by the bar. Whereas I, on the other hand, had a pleasant conversation, made her laugh, and threw in the odd double entendre for good measure – as I always do whenever we meet up.

So, students of Game Theory, what have we learned from this?

Well, I've seen the Nash Equilibrium in action, exactly as demonstrated in the film. I've seen two friends and two acquaintances make fools of themselves on a Saturday afternoon. I've had a flashback to the exact situation I described in 'Hit and Miss' nearly seven years ago.

And I know when it's time to make my excuses and leave.

I'll catch up with Lisa at some point, and probably have to apologise for baling out after my second pint. But I could see how the situation was developing. Since there's already a history of violence in that circle of boys, I decided that I wasn't in the mood to watch another scrap.

So I didn't get off with Lisa. I wasn't going to approach her in that way anyway, so it's not as if I missed my chance. It's more likely that I missed out on a fight, rather than a fuck. Better single than sorry, eh?