I woke up to a blanket of powder covering my New York City streets, and somewhere out there was a sea of pie-eyed romantics using it as a euphemism for the blank slate of the year to come. I carry the belief that there is no blank slate. You don’t start over, you plow through and try and forget. I took a nice long walk around Midtown, and went to a Starbucks to break into Big Sur. I stole a spot in a comfy chair and dove in. After about an hour I had developed a series of high-school esque, look stealing exchanges with a girl I later learned to be named Marisa.
What are you reading?
I just pointed to the cover.
Cute.
And then I looked at her for the first time. She was the kind of girl who wore tights and a summer dress on a chilly winter day. She had elaborate jewelry and a slight lisp. I asked her what she was reading, just to be polite. We spent an hour talking about the books we were reading, giving each other recommendations. I told her that she was dangerously distracting. She apologized and told me that she’d go to another coffee shop. I told her to not be ridiculous, that I would leave. We wound up both leaving, and going to a little bistro a few blocks over that she was aware of. She told me that no self-respecting individual goes to Starbucks and chats up a stranger. Bistros, however, were fair game.
So, we slung our messenger bags on and walked a few blocks. I told her it was a good thing I enjoy coffee as a hangover remedy, and last night was New Years after all. She got a little jittery around cup 2 at the new place, so I bought her a scone and some tea…decaf tea. She playfully touched my arm and asked me if I wanted to grab a drink sometime, other than the coffee we were drinking. I told her I would love to, but I actually had to get going at that point in time. She gave me her number and texted me while I was on the Subway ride home, just to say, ‘Dangerously distracting”.
Smooth
Ha, I like her style.