(diaryland) February 20, 2010 - 9:20 a.m.

Blustering, completely pink and sweaty from ascending the local hill to get to the supermarket, I was in the Frozen meals section and suddenly found myself in The Game.

I get this vibe that the lessons as reported in The Game tells you that the first thing you need as a pick-up artist is a bowling shirt. I always imagined people who did The Game would naturally wear a bowling shirt. This guy was wearing a bowling shirt. And he was in the Frozen Meals section of the supermarket.

As soon as he looked at me, I thought, Jesus, this is actually a really good idea, hanging around the Frozen Meals. Single people would buy frozen meals. This is gold.

I was listening to some rad tunes on my iPod.

The bowling shirt guy said, "So much choice, isn't there?"

I took out an ear plug, and said, "What?" I pretty much knew what he had said.

He said, "So much choice."

I was scanning the shelves. I found what I wanted because I have no imagination. I said, "Na, I don't have that problem. I always go for the same thing." I grabbed the last Butter Chicken out of the freezer.

Then the guy said, "I wish I was like you," and then I pissed off. It was too much like a textbook performance. Bam, there was the compliment you're supposed to give. It felt like I was being secretly filmed for a TV show. I wouldn't be surprised if there was someone with an earpiece shouting at him, "Introduce yourself! Shake her hand! SHAKE HER HAND AND DON'T LET GO!!!!!!!!!!!!!!"

Shit, there's a wasp in the room.