Monday, April 13, 2009
And trying to find anything you can feel that you can believe in
I knew you were there before I arrived, as my friend texted me to inform me she had purposefully placed herself at the bar, since my 'boy toy' was bartending that night. So, I bustled through the door in a hurry prepared to flirt with you unsuccessfully.
Imagine my surprise, when you said to me as I bellied up to the bar, "hey! you been running in the park lately?"
See, we talked once before on a quiet sunday morning, while I waited for my perpetually late friend for brunch. In my senses guided exclusively by low self-esteem, I figured you had only talked so much to me that morning because I was the only person at the bar, and I look like I tip well (I do. Its one of my things).
But, after assessing from Betsy that she had not fore-warned you of the imminent arrival of her friend-who-goes-running-in-the-park, I realized that you remembered me and almost all of the things that we had talked about. I can't lie- my heart skipped a beat. Over the course of the evening, you came across as genuinely interested in me. Everytime you made a drink, you made some extra and poured it into a glass for me. You would laugh at my stories to Betsy about the insanity of my life and asked me about the dinner I had just come from. As Betsy and I talked about our favorite bar, you asked if you could join us sometime. Then, while I regaled Betsy with a hilarious story involving a 'buddy' incident in my boot camp class, you but in saying, "I love the way you tell stories. Its so vivid and I can imagine everything in my head."
And by the end of the night, you were calling me 'baby', which made me blush right down to my toes.
Betsy and I stayed until you closed the bar and a friend of yours came to meet you to go out for drinks and invited us along. We made our way to another bar in Harlem, and you proceeded to ignore me the rest of the night, until you hugged me when I left and asked why I was leaving so soon.
And now, I can't stop thinking about you. Betsy keeps telling me I just have to keep planting seeds.
UGH.
Today's Title from: In the Sun by Joseph Arthur
Imagine my surprise, when you said to me as I bellied up to the bar, "hey! you been running in the park lately?"
See, we talked once before on a quiet sunday morning, while I waited for my perpetually late friend for brunch. In my senses guided exclusively by low self-esteem, I figured you had only talked so much to me that morning because I was the only person at the bar, and I look like I tip well (I do. Its one of my things).
But, after assessing from Betsy that she had not fore-warned you of the imminent arrival of her friend-who-goes-running-in-the-park, I realized that you remembered me and almost all of the things that we had talked about. I can't lie- my heart skipped a beat. Over the course of the evening, you came across as genuinely interested in me. Everytime you made a drink, you made some extra and poured it into a glass for me. You would laugh at my stories to Betsy about the insanity of my life and asked me about the dinner I had just come from. As Betsy and I talked about our favorite bar, you asked if you could join us sometime. Then, while I regaled Betsy with a hilarious story involving a 'buddy' incident in my boot camp class, you but in saying, "I love the way you tell stories. Its so vivid and I can imagine everything in my head."
And by the end of the night, you were calling me 'baby', which made me blush right down to my toes.
Betsy and I stayed until you closed the bar and a friend of yours came to meet you to go out for drinks and invited us along. We made our way to another bar in Harlem, and you proceeded to ignore me the rest of the night, until you hugged me when I left and asked why I was leaving so soon.
And now, I can't stop thinking about you. Betsy keeps telling me I just have to keep planting seeds.
UGH.
Today's Title from: In the Sun by Joseph Arthur
Posted by Chloe
at 11:35 PM |
Permalink to And trying to find anything you can feel that you can believe in |
2 Comments |
