He looks at her. Now he can’t stop looking at her. She’s… so damn cute, but more so an animal magnetism draws him towards her. He needs to talk to her. But suddenly he’s shy. Do the right thing, he urges himself. Be a…
“Hey man! Where the hell you go? I got a shot for you.” He looks up into the concerned eyes of a curly haired stranger who holds a shot out for him to drink. He doesn’t recognize him. Must have acquired some dude love earlier in the night. He hugs the curly haired man, burying his head into his chest as he wraps his arms around him. He releases his hold to slam the shot of 12-year-old courage.
Next thing he knows, he sees he’s in conversation with the angel behind the bar. He doesn’t know what he’s been saying to her but he’s glad to see her face and that she’s responding.
“I’d like to take you out some time,” he hears himself say.
She smiles. Brushes her hair back softly as she looks away for a moment. She grabs a napkin and slides it over to him.
“Write five good reasons why,” she says.
He didn’t expect this. He has no words. The challenge is too existential for his drunken state of mind. How can I show her my worth as a man in five lines? He stands there at the bar stumped because that last shot of Jameson from Stranger Love stunted his vocabulary to one word.
“I’m awesome” he writes for number one. “You’re awesome” he writes for number two. “We’re awesome” he writes for number three. He scratches his head. Now what? He streaks a line across four and five because his mind has drawn a blank. There, he says to himself. I got to the root… the heart and soul of her question. No more reasons necessary. He scribbles his number and the line “NO EXPECTATIONS!!!” with three too many exclamation marks. He knows it’s not good enough. He’ll have to regroup and try again some other time. Hopefully he doesn’t lose her to the void known as NYC, a vacuum of black skinny jeans and casual encounters.
He hands her the napkin, flashes her a grin and walks off. I’ll be back, he says to himself. I’ll come back a changed man.
He sits off to the side of the bar to reflect on the turn of events, occasionally sneaking blurry glances at her, watching her mix drinks as she glows… the Buddha light sashays off her silver shaker. She’s beautiful, he tells himself. And she’s got some punk to her. How can I show her I’m more than a drunken fool? That I could be her fool. That I’d slap a ninja for her. That I’d get slapped by a ninja for her.
Girls only like guys with skills. He sighs. He gets up and walks to the dance floor. Off to bootie dance with the Friday night Fat Buddha Bar crowd. Let’s make it a Funky Buddha tonight. Bootie dance and be one with the Universe. He sneaks one last glance, hides his grin… and slips off into the night.