My luck with men.

Some people find it very easy to be single.  They are comfortable meeting new people and seem to have an unending supply of new potential dates.  I am not one of those people.  My biggest set back is I am far too chicken to approach men.  And I am not great when approached either.  I easily get tongue-tied and awkward.  And I have usually lived by the philosophy "If you can't say anything that is not awkward, don't say anything at all".

Take for example this one guy from my neighborhood.  He is a very attractive older gentleman who lives near Pitango.  He seems nice, successful and, best of all, sane.  He is a semi-regular and I have developed a little bit of a school boy crush on him.  Sometimes we chat, but usually I look at him, punk out, fiddle with the espresso machine, stare at the brewing shots, and mutter "good day" as I hand him his beverage.

Very recently however, I have challenged myself to grow the proverbial pair and talk to him the next time he came in.  But if only life were simple. 

Yesterday our hot chocolate machine broke and we had to heat up the hot chocolate using the steam wand on the espresso machine.  And when I was trying to steam a drink I pulled the wand out too far and the hot chocolate splattered all over the place.

Now are hot chocolate is very thick (almost syrup) and difficult to wipe up.  The drink is 75% chocolate and more of it streaks across the counter than is absorbed into a rag.  And as my luck would have it, just as I make this huge mess, that is when my gentleman friend came in.

Staying true to my resolution, I did not relent though.  I took his order and while making it I asked how his weekend went.  And in the midst of cleaning chocolate off the counter, cups, coffee grinder, espresso machine, and everywhere else, we continued to talk, doing my best to maintain eye contact.  I ended up engaging him in a 15-20 minute conversation, well past the time it took me to clean.  We talked about weekend plans, movies, and whatever else we chatted about.

After he left, feeling rather accomplished, I went to the bathroom.  That is where, looking in the mirror, I discovered I had chocolate splatter all over my face.  During our entire conversation, the conversation in which I was doing my best to look at him head on and maintain eye contact, my face was covered in chocolate poke-a-dots.

I can only imagine what he thinks of me now.  I am probably coded as "Crazy Chocolate Boy" in his mind.  And if he was ever interested in me I doubt he still is.  I wouldn't be.

But on the plus side not only am I still proud of myself for taking the initiative to talk to him, I got a funny blog post out of it. :-)