i can almost hear atif exclaiming, yessssssss… the bogs is back!, or mitch joking, ohmigawd it’s eric bogs!, imitating my supposed admirers who we would supposedly run into out and about in london on skewlnights. but, i had to admit that it was pure serendipity that plopped me down right next to him last friday night.
i’d lamented just a few weeks ago that the cute boy who’d been occasionally serving me lattés and winks at the café next to my office for many months had disappeared. we spent much of november and december carefully building momentum, smiling, winking, glancing—at least in my twisted mind. as a recap, i’d described him previously as…
so cute… i’m almost certain he was either english or dutch [not that those two nationalities necessarily look similar, i'm just giving you my expert analysis]. in addition to his eurocute demeanor, he was my height, maybe 23, black spikey hair, rosy cheeks and a constant smirk on his face.
but, after returning to the office after the holidays, he was gone. disappeared. surely i’d never see him again.
imagine my surprise as i snuck in the backdoor of my favorite salon, late for my sidehawk mowing haircut, greeted warmly by the owner david and ushered to his chair. next to me, getting blown [dried] by the crazy russian lady is none other than cute café boy.
he pretends to not see me, and i pretend to not see him. russian lady’s blow dryer is loud, so my stylist and i need to speak loudly to negotiate what the hell we’re doing with my fried ‘hawk. i want to chat to c.c.b., but it’s awkward as we’re both chatting with our respective stylists. eventually, i turn, and smile, didn’t you work at [café name withheld] in [city name withheld]? he smiles, yeah! and you work at [company], right?
he tells me, yeah, i left a few weeks ago. my face contorts itself into an overly-animated frown, i’ve noticed! we miss you…
our eyes lock for a good ten seconds, he reaches out his hand, and i take it. my name’s cody, he tells me, as he pulls me in for a kiss.
our stylists stand there in awe, and after a good 10 seconds of snogging, the other patrons start hooting and hollering. one big ol’ black diva who’s getting extensions put in turns around in her chair, snaps her fingers [which feature fingernail portraits of palm trees] and says, ow, girrrrrl!
of course, nothing in the last two paragraphs actually happened. what actually happened, was i was taken back to get my hair shampooed, and when i returned he was just about to leave. i asked, so, what are you up to tonight? [having passed him once, months ago, going to popstarz] oh, me and a friend are going dancing…
and then, he left.
my stylist david and i spent the next half hour analyzing what had happened. david thinks he was playing really hard to get, and that i should’ve gone to the 7 different weho hotspots chasing him down. crazy russian lady thinks he has a boyfriend, and felt hesitant when i asked what his name was [in reality, he and i didn't even exchange introductions]. david gave me a hug as slumped out of the salon.
so, there you go. for some reason, fate brought cute café boy and i together for one last awkward moment, completely representative of our whole awkward 947am-twice-a-week-for-three-months relationship.
