Thursday, May 15, 2003
( 11:15 AM ) Rebecca
Being a cute girl has its perks sometimes.
Today on the way to work I went to my favorite coffee place, where I have a small crush on one of the baristas, who shall henceforth be known as Sparklehorse Barista Boy (SBB) due to the t-shirt he was wearing this morning. (As you may recall, I'm fond of boys in band t-shirts.)
A few weeks ago, before I had a crush on SBB, he deeply disturbed yet impressed me with his inside knowledge of the music scene, when he told me, about Lucinda Williams, one of my favorite singers: "Dude, she played with my friend's band once, and, dude, that chick is sooo high on heroine!"
Now I'm not like GuyPal #1 or Sexy Blue-Eyed Boy, both of whom get crushes on cute server girls all over Seattle (Baristas, in my experience, are to boys like rock stars are to women). I get crushes on other boys. Mostly pretty, young, commitmentphobic ones without any jobs at all (Speaking of which, has Mr. Alt.Country "I'm very attracted to you" Boy called? NO. NO. NO.) But that's besides the point.
I haven't had a nice barista crush since back in the day when I lived in a basement and was getting over my last breakup. Back then, there was a cute barista boy at Cafe News in Maple Leaf, who used to provide an extra shot o' lovin' with my coffee each morning. A few flirty glances from him helped me drag my sorry, self-pitying a*s out in the world each day.
BUT. He was never quite as sweet as SBB was today.
There I was, standing in line, looking at SBB, hoping he would notice me and trying not to look like I was hoping he would notice me. He wasn't noticing me. Or so I thought. But then, suddenly:
SBB: "Hello darling."
BB: Darling? Did he call me darling? "Hello." I am cool. Revealing nothing, like the ice-princess you all know me to be.
BB "Fine thanks. How are you?" (Is it any wonder I'm known as a world-class conversationalist?)
SBB: "Oh fine." Pause. "What's your name anyway?" There is just the hint of a sweet, shy look in his mocha (or are they hazelnut with a touch of vanilla?) eyes, which look at me. And then away. Oh so subtly.
BB: "R. And yours?"
SBB: "S." The air crackles.
BB: "Hi." I have undoubtedly reached new heights in the realm of sparkling repartee. S. smiles. He looks a little bit like my ex-friend who looks exactly like Eddie Vedder, only he is cuter than the ex-friend.
SBB: "What would you like this morning?"
BB: "Oh just a small drip coffee." Cause I'm high as a kite already on twenty different kinds of antidepressants and Lord knows I don't actually need any caffeine. SBB pours my coffee than hands me the cup. He has olive skin. Have I mentioned I like olive skin?
SBB: "Hey, that's on me today, R." And before I know it, SBB hands me my free-for-being-a-cute-friendly-girl-I-like-you-dontcha-know cup of coffee that starts my day off on just the right happy note.
It later took a brief turn for the worse when I [ARCHIVE SCRUB OCCURRED HERE - OUCH!] But I swear to God, it's not happening next time that weasel (thanks to B. for the new, and oh-so-apt Loser descriptor) comes within 10 feet of me.
Anyway, three more days til the great southern adventure begins. Did y'all know I'm going to visit Memphis Boy before heading down to New Orleans? Most of you are too young to remember him, but he was a Breakup Babe favorite for a while there, 'til he had to move back to Memphis.
One can only hope I'll forget about Alt.Country Boy while I'm there and find myself some REAL country boys. Hmmph.
E-mail Breakup Babe