“So, what else you got?”
She mouths the words and I just stare hypnotically at her beautiful smile and playful eyes. Her lips embrace the glass of pinot and I’m lost. I have gaps in thought just discussing simple matters. We’ve just walked the city streets and now sit talking.
She found me in the self help section of the book store. I saw her head swivelling and couldn’t help, but to approach her. Who meets people at book stores? Where do you go to meet people in adulthood? These questions perplex most, but I’m focussed, single and outspoken. The sudden wave of courage could be a product of Frank Ocean’s mixtape drowning out the surrounding noise. Who knows? I approach with the bravado of a 60′s movie star in a zoot suit.
“I recommend this one? Kind of wordy, but you’ll disregard that once the story starts”
She’s looking at me like Drew Barrymore when she discovers E.T.’s in the closet.
“This is the point where you’re supposed to say ‘Thank you’ and ask my name?”
She replies, “this is actually the part where I tell you my boyfriend is in the washroom and turn away from the creepy guy”
Ouch! She’s funny and beautiful. Wait a minute, am I really the creepy guy. I should give up now, but I’m stubborn and I know she isn’t here with anyone. I’ve been reading at Starbucks for two hours and I saw her enter the store. I cycle through many quick witted replies, but all I can muster is,
“Ouch! Sorry to bother you”
Not as slick as I am in my thoughts. I shy away and rally the troops for one more ditch effort.
“Listen, I know I was a little brash before. My name is…. and I just had to speak to you. Can I buy you a latte? “
Her eyes are replying for her, but she speaks anyway.
“How did you know I didn’t have a boyfriend?”
I smile and she discloses her name, her voice is sex and her humour is HBO worthy.
Hours pass and she is no longer a stranger, but a fly woman with the insight of someone much older than her years. Do kids still say “fly”? I don’t want to stop talking, so I ask her if I can walk her halfway home. This is a clever tactic and in most other circles it would be construed as creepy. We live in a big city that never sleeps, so she doesn’t need to fear me and I’m walking her halfway so she doesn’t have to divulge where she lives. This is genius…at least in theory.
“I don’t know. How do I know know you’re not serial killer-esque? I mean, this is how most movies of the week begin.”
She’s interested, but a little frightened. I get it, single woman with a total stranger, so I unburden her by removing the stranger stigma around me.
“Here’s my wallet, with all my money and identification. There’s tons of people around and it’s not dark, if you feel threatened at any point – scream “fire” and run for your life. Deal?”
She smiles and oh, what a smile it is. I feel like I’ve known her for years, but there is still an air of mystery. This is something I want to prolong and dip my feet in periodically. The whole story will come eventually. We sit in this jazz cafe/restaurant, pinot in her hand, Shiraz in mine.
“So, what else you got?”
Carpe Diem Que