The One Where I Ran into Someone

There is always that awkward moment, generally post break up, where you run into that one person you least want to see in the world. You can try your best to avoid all the spots you used to go together, but the universe is an unkind place, so eventually it's bound to happen. Today is one such story . . .

A few months ago I dated a gentleman (I know, me, dating . . .already this story sounds like total nonsensical fiction). We dated for approximately one month. It was only after the fact that my family revealed some knowledge to me. Though they had never met this gentleman, they said there were red flags that lead them to believe he was . . . gay. Gay? Gay.

I support this life style and gave my fist in the air, "I stand with you" sign of approval.

So back to today. . .

Today I saw said gentleman at my favorite coffee shop having a date with another girl. Though I contemplated holding a sign up that said, "He's not playing for your team" or trying to tap some morris code on the table to let her know, I figured, she can make her own mistakes. So instead I pretended I didn't see him. Oh, make no mistake, I made sure he saw me. I flirted and smiled at strangers, I laughed jovially, cheating my face to the side. Of course the only table available in the whole place was two tables over from his, so I am sure he heard, saw, and wandered as I shook my recently short hair, "how could I have let such a majestic creature get away?" (this is what I imagine him thinking . . .everyone else was probably thinking, "this chick is a pain in the ass, someone shut her up.") In reality he probably didn't notice anything since he still isn't observant enough to stop dating girls. . .

Luckily I had put on make-up this morning, and was wearing a hat to cover up the hair which was a result of "no shower Saturdays." Anyways, as my friend and I were leaving, I snuck my first glance at him. As I stepped into the threshold of the door, wind blowing my hair back (sort of), I paused and we exchanged dramatic eye contact from across the room. Then I stepped out into the unknown. Actually I stepped onto Grandview Ave. but "the unknown" sounded more enchanting. . . like in a romantic comedy, when the screen goes white and you know there are big dreams ahead for the heroine. The best part was I didn't trip.

As we walked past his car, my friend said, with wisdom and knowledge in her 25 years, "He has a personalized license plate? That seems like a check in the gay column."

I should have warned the poor girl inside . . .