The Over-Educated Nympho

Years ago, right before I started dating (Ex)BF, I used to go to this one particular coffeeshop a lot. I went nearly every evening with my journal and a book. Almost every time I was there, so was this guy–a rather dashing tall dark and handsome guy, with a good sense of humor and a beautiful smile. Oh, and the arms. The toned arms that looked perfect for lifting me up against a bathroom wall and having his dirty way with me.

When we sat at neighboring tables (not that I EVER did that on purpose), we’d get to chatting. Neither one of us were bold enough to make a move, but it was obvious that we were into each other. Every time I saw him I’d vow to myself, THIS TIME you’re going to ask him out, THIS TIME you won’t chicken out, you know he likes you so just ask him already!… but I never did. He was too handsome, too cool, too nice–too intimidating.

Then I met BF.

From then on, if I was at that coffeeshop, he was there with me. Nobody can cockblock you better than a boyfriend.

I stopped going to the coffeeshop on my own. I started giving up me things for we things, which included Saturday mornings enjoying coffee together. He reading the paper, me reading a book.

The smiles from the dashing stranger changed. They were no longer the wide beaming smiles, but the small close-lipped ones, the defeated kind you give coworkers when passing each other in the hall, like well this sucks but what can you do?

On these Saturday mornings I often caught myself gazing at the dashing stranger in the corner, then I’d mentally smack myself and go back to my happily coupled mentality. Over and over this happened. Of course I never flirted with him, and only spoke to him if there were a reason too, “Are you done with paper? May I? Thank you,” you hot sexy FINE piece of ass, you. That was all that ever came of it.

After the break-up many months ago, I avoid my old neighborhood altogether, which meant resigning my favorite coffeeshop. Yet I still found myself thinking of that handsome stranger whenever I saw someone who looked like him.

Now I alternate between several different coffeeshops as I try to decide which one will become my hub for all the months of training and studying I am about to go through. Saturday afternoon I tried yet another location. As I added milk to my coffee, I looked up and saw him. He saw me at the exact same moment, and his friend stopped talking to see WTF was going on that made us both drop our jaws. I mouthed hello and held up my finger, just a minute…

As I walked over, so many thoughts flew through my head THIS TIME YOU ARE GOING TO ASK HIM OUT, YOU STUPID IDIOT, ASK HIM OUT ASK HIM OUT ASK HIM OUT. He stood up to hug me (YESSS!!! BODY CONTACT!! Can I just rub a little? Here? And here? Just a little? Pretty please with ME on top?). We shook our heads at what a small world, to run into each other in a completely different area of town.

I managed to (shamelessly and obviously) drop into conversation that I moved all the way over here after the break-up, and oh my goodness so many things have changed and yada yada yada.

The friend was snickering. OKAY SHUT UP I KNOW I’M BEING A TOTAL DUMBFUCK AND ALL BUT SAYING “HEY GUESS WHAT NOW I’M SINGLE AGAIN! DATE ME DO ME FUCK ME!!!” I couldn’t tell if the dashing stranger was intrigued or amused. I chickened out of asking him out–at least while the snickering friend was present.

I told him to come find me later if he wanted to chat, which he seemed agreeable to. For the next couple hours, I pored over MANAGEMENT TRAINING BINDER #1, and was giddy with pleasure about seeing this guy again, the guy I’d been lusting after for years–now it was finally time for me to ask him out. Maybe the goddess of irony isn’t a total fuckhole after all.

Two hours later, I looked up and saw him waving at me–from fifteen feet away. He was leaving. YOU CAN’T LEAVE YET, ASSHOLE, YOU HAVEN’T TALKED TO ME!! I WAS GOING TO FINALLY ASK FOR YOUR PHONE NUMBER AS SOON AS I GOT YOU ALONE!!! He tapped his watch and mouthed to me “I’m really busy, gotta go.” THAT IS FUCKING BULLSHIT. I CALL BULLSHIT! Although of course, I just forced a smile and said “okay, catch ya later.” And for the rest of the time I was there, I fumed.

WHAT THE FUCKING FUCK IS THIS FUCKING CRAP? FUCK FUCK FUCKETY FUCK FUCK!!! THAT IS NOT HOW IT WAS SUPPOSED TO GO! COME BACK AND PLAY RIGHT!!! I WANT A DO-OVER!!! Fucking dumbass. Me, being the dumbass of course.