Because really, what do I have to lose?
My neighborhood has some of the best coffee shops in the world within a half mile radius, but on this particular day, I needed a break from Capitol Hill. I didn't care about the ingenuity of my latte art. I wanted to be free from MacBooks and Google Glass and facial hair.
Drove two miles south, and I might as well have been in a different city. Bam! Beacon Hill delivered. Two minutes at the windowsill of a coffee shop and a hot, Black, dreadlocked man walked in, wearing a mix of notflannel and notplaid.
"What asinine pickup line can I come up with?", I thought. Three years of hitting on men in Seattle has given me the confidence to know that the introductory line doesn't matter. Just start talking about anything. ANYTHING. If there's interest, I will get a response.
I walked over to his general vicinity, chose a nearby magazine, and said syllables out loud. I have no idea what the magic words were, but in the subsequent minutes I found out he was an inner city kindergarten teacher, and I fell in love. He asked me what my name was and gave me his. Everything was going great, but I couldn't close the deal. I got nervous, as we do, and I left the coffee shop with no numbers exchanged- even though I think we both wanted to.
So I turned to the Missed Connections section on Craigslist and posted, from which I have gotten a single response: "You could have taken him a cookie with your number on the napkin."
Noted.
Fingers crossed!!!!
My neighborhood has some of the best coffee shops in the world within a half mile radius, but on this particular day, I needed a break from Capitol Hill. I didn't care about the ingenuity of my latte art. I wanted to be free from MacBooks and Google Glass and facial hair.
Drove two miles south, and I might as well have been in a different city. Bam! Beacon Hill delivered. Two minutes at the windowsill of a coffee shop and a hot, Black, dreadlocked man walked in, wearing a mix of notflannel and notplaid.
"What asinine pickup line can I come up with?", I thought. Three years of hitting on men in Seattle has given me the confidence to know that the introductory line doesn't matter. Just start talking about anything. ANYTHING. If there's interest, I will get a response.
I walked over to his general vicinity, chose a nearby magazine, and said syllables out loud. I have no idea what the magic words were, but in the subsequent minutes I found out he was an inner city kindergarten teacher, and I fell in love. He asked me what my name was and gave me his. Everything was going great, but I couldn't close the deal. I got nervous, as we do, and I left the coffee shop with no numbers exchanged- even though I think we both wanted to.
So I turned to the Missed Connections section on Craigslist and posted, from which I have gotten a single response: "You could have taken him a cookie with your number on the napkin."
Noted.
Fingers crossed!!!!
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