This morning I had a feeling I was going to bump into that guy in the yellow shirt. I’d worn a pretty dress and splashed on a bit of perfume, just in case.
And there he was, at my coffee shop. Sitting at the counter, sipping his espresso, looking – a little old, a little worn, a lot sexy.
He gave me a hug hello as if we were best friends. It was a huge hug. A ten-minute hug. A hug that got me thinking ‘Oh god this is so nice but also jesus my coffee is getting cold and I really have to go grocery shopping hug.’
But I liked it. He smelled so good and his shirt was so soft.
I’ve only met him once, but it kinda feels like I’ve known him forever.
I can easily imagine him at home wandering around barefoot and listening to music. I imagine he’s a good cook. I can see him in the kitchen, dishing up something yummy, wiping his hands on his apron and saying ‘Let’s eat.’
Then falling asleep in a sunbeam with an old Panama hat covering his face.
During the hug he told me his favorite film is The Big Lebowski.
My favorite film is The Big Lebowski.
Maybe everyone’s favorite film is The Big Lebowski.
But still. I have this weird feeling. That even with his terrible dress sense, high cholesterol and swarm of young and beautiful ex-wives, there’s something there.
We didn’t make a date. But I think we will soon.
I’ve booked a hair appointment and a leg wax. And I’ve stopped eating so I can fit into my little black dress.
Just in case.