I have never been able to play it cool without somehow
having it backfire in some absurd way.
STORY #1: walking along the hallway and since I don't have
glasses but clearly have poor eyesight, I begin to squint as I see someone who
looked really familiar. I was going for clint eastwood on a fistful of dollars.
well, this wasn't the awkward part. for a full three seconds
I was cool. glorious. then familiar looking boy started to speak.
boy-I-met-before-or-did-I: hi! you're Ben's friend right?
me: yeah...you're from the gallery opening.
smooth. brain cells are firing brilliantly today.
boy-I-definitely-met-before: that's right.
ok, brain. two for two. you KNOW this guy's name. let's keep
going.
me: uhhhmm...Ryan??
boy-I-met-before-who-is-now-walking-away: uh, no.
I should have stopped.
STORY #2: I've spent a LOT of late nights in studio hopped up
on caffeine and extra loud music pouring out of my headphones. well, isn't that
normal? for an architecture student, you mean? well, yes, but if you add some
key ingredients like: a well-placed desk one needs to pass in order to get to
the men's room, a boy who is illegally good looking, a heightened sense of
awareness, and a metal ruler; something not quite right is going to go down.
he always wore khakis and a button-down shirt rolled-up just
right under the elbow. always. in the pajamas and well-worn jeans culture of
studio, this is a rare sight. although tonight he wore jeans and a blue polo
shirt with brown suede shoes. I was floored. it was like casual wear met the
boss. so dreamy.
dear nature, I thank for making the call that day because he
answered.
he had to go. and I hashed out a plan.
ok, 2:30am brain, what you got?
brain: why don't we pretend to be frustrated with this plan
drawing and throw your hands into the air? closed fists and all. maybe a little
cry of despair? he's definitely going to stop and ask if you're ok and hold you
in his arms and comfort you until the café downstairs open and you share a cup
of coffee as you plan your life together.
me: brain, i'm all for this genius plan. why can't you be like this instead of spazzing out when i'm on a review?
I see him in the corner of my eye. fifteen feet. ten. five.
four. three. two.
me-as-I-raise-my-fists-in-full-theatrics-as-he-walked-behind-me:
aaaargh! this plan!!
I told you about the metal ruler, right?
I almost stabbed
ridiculously-handsome-guy in the face. in his devastatingly gorgeous face.
that was not part of the plan.