29 June 2007

Happy Ending

I never forget a face- and I rarely have happy endings- but tonight I was shocked on both counts.

A couple of blocks from my office, walking home from work, I spotted a super super hot man. Like, man of my dreams hot. I couldn't help but stare. I was walking east on the north side of Grand, he was getting ready to cross Grand from the north side to the south side. As I got closer, he smiled and waved, pulled his sunglasses off, said something like "I know you, I've met you", so I walked to where he was standing. Looking and sounding as perplexed as humanly, or inhumanly, as possible, I said "Have we met?" He replied "Yeah, I'm Tom". Remember, hotness. I said, idiotically, unbelievably, so unbelievably it's like from a movie, "Sorry, I don't think we have", smiled, said have a good day, and WALKED THE FUCK AWAY.

I instantly regretted this move. Even if I really had never met him, he was wide open to meeting me right there on the street. And instead I walked away. I never meet people on the street, never mind meet any of the sexy men I constantly walk past. I felt like the biggest idiot the rest of the way home. With each step I figuratively kicked myself. I had to smoke a cigarette. I was making faces, rolling my eyes at myself, shaking my head, passers-by must have thought I was insane, or possessed. I called Laura to recount my idiocy, leaving a long, loud, detailed message. My only consolation was that he might be gay, and then it wouldn't even matter.

When I finally made it to my apartment there was a little traffic jam in the entryway. This almost never happens, I rarely see my neighbors, and certainly not more than one at a time. I was in the foyer checking my mailbox. A man who'd just tossed an empty glass liquor bottle in the recycling bin (reminding me of my glass-tastrophe yesterday morning when I dropped an empty bottle of vodka on the stairs) was heading for the exit door. As I locked up my mailbox, glass bottle man grabbed for the door handle of the door in front of me, and I heard keys jangling in the door behind me. I turned around to chuckle with this other, newly entering neighbor, about the pile up in the hall. It was Tom.

And that's when it all hit me like a ton of bricks. Flash back to a couple of months after I moved in. I bought a book case and antique radio on craigslist. A friend was going to help me bring them up to my fifth floor apartment after I got them to the building, but right after the cab driver dropped me and my heavy-ish items off in front of my building and I began struggling to just get them inside the front door, dammit, Tom showed up. Someone raised him right, because he offered assistance without batting an eyelash. Well maybe he batted them, but only in a very seductive way. I told him that if he could just help me get them inside it would be fine, someone else would come help me take them upstairs to my FIFTH FLOOR apartment. But he insisted on going all the way. After we got both pieces upstairs, I offered him a drink and told him to knock on my door any time. That's the last I saw of Tom. I sometimes wondered if he still lived here or if he'd moved on, if he had a girlfriend, or maybe a boyfriend.

Flash forward to our second encounter of the day in our hallway. I was all shock. How did he catch up to me when he was going in the opposite direction and I am a fucking speed walker? How did he remember me, when I'm the one who never forgets?? Was he behind me, watching my insanity the whole way home? I said "Oh my god I'm an idiot!" I actually slapped my forehead. "I helped you move some furniture remember?" And then I was all apologies. I described myself as an "ass" and "asshole" numerous times as we walked up the stairs. I told him again to knock on my door anytime. This time he's not getting away. Gay or straight, I'm taking him out for a fucking drink.

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