I went out with M., lady of the unrequited love, last night. We went to the bar where Bartender Guy works, and when she started to hint that she'd rather go somewhere else, a la, "This band's okay, but not worth the cover charge," I confessed.
"I like the band okay, but my real reason for wanting to come is the guy who took our cash at the door."
"Really?" She turned to look. She nodded appreciatively. Then she said, "The part I don't get is why, if you came here for a crush, you're sitting with your back to him," she pointed to the opposite seat of the booth, "instead of where you can look at him."
"Um..."
"Not to mention why haven't you gone over and talked to him?"
I probably blushed at that point. Then she laughed hysterically and called me a chickenshit.
I sighed. "I'm bad at this, at boys."
The best I managed was a quick exchange with him on the way out along the lines of, "Going already?" on his part and, "Yeah, but the band is fun" on mine.
Yup, he'll fall in love with me for sure now.
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