The Single Guy doesn't so much like sharing about the women that frequent his bank anymore. This is mostly because it's never really gotten him anywhere in the past. Let's look at the previous examples:
There's the Girl in the White SUV. After months of debating whether or not he should even bother approaching her, he decided to make a move. Any attempt to make contact with White SUV was met with indifference. Eventually, she stopped coming to the bank altogether.
And then there was the Hostess. The Single Guy befriended her through a certain social network only to discover that she was in a long-term, committed relationship.
So, why try anymore?
But the Single Guy hasn't changed anything about himself. He still doesn't go out to meet new people. And attractive women haven't stopped coming to the bank. So he still notices the few that drive up to his window to conduct their everyday business.
This leads us to the Spider-Girl. She's someone that the Single Guy has seen on more than a few occasions. At first he wasn't referring to her as Spider-Girl, though. At first he was calling her the Hot Librarian. And it's not because she's a librarian. At least, he doesn't think she's a librarian.
She makes deposits for her employer, a local business. From that, the Single Guy assumes that she's not an actual librarian. No, the somewhat objectifying moniker comes from the girl's uncanny ability to pull off the horn-rimmed-glasses-and-hair-in-a-bun look. And she doesn't just pull it off. She makes it look amazing. Like you kind of hope she's the one at the front desk of the library and you're hoping she'll find some reason to say something to you. So you randomly shout out "BOOKS!" just so she'll come over and shush you.
The Single Guy has grown more comfortable attempting to talk to the Hot Librarian. Not that any deep and meaningful conversations have manifested themselves between the 2-inch bullet resistant glass. They're just short blurbs of conversation wherein the Single Guy has been able to showcase his quick and dry wit, inspiring a laugh or two with each of her visits.
Earlier in the week when she made her usual visit, he was thinking of ways to ask for her name. For one thing, referring to her as the Hot Librarian just seemed wrong. The Single Guy was, of course, aware that that name does tend to objectify her. And he was aware that it was entirely inaccurate, again, because she's not a librarian.
But as he finished her transaction and was about to ask her name, he noticed that she was freaking out about something in her car. "Are you all right?" he asked.
"I think so," she said, laughing and not too sure of herself. "A spider dropped into my lap and now I don't know where it went."
The Single Guy had just seen a video on YouTube about some type of spider in Australia that liked to hide in cars and would startle motorists causing some pretty severe pile-ups. This went through his head as he told the Hot Librarian to be careful driving. "That's how accidents happen."
The next day, she returned. When the Single Guy greeted her she started laughing. He felt a little self-conscious and asked, "Did I miss something?"
"No, I had just forgotten all about that spider until just now."
The Single Guy laughed along with her and made small talk, assuming she never found the arachnid. He still hasn't been able to get her real name, but he's decided to stop referring to her as the Hot Librarian. Spider-Girl seems a bit more appropriate from here on out.
He still wants to get her name. Spider-Girl is probably an inaccurate description as well. It's highly unlikely that she can walk on walls or shoot web fluid from her wrists. But that would be pretty spectacular.