hello, bartender.

the evolution of a crush.

I didn't mean for this blog to be as cliche as it seems. Someone told me that while entertaining, my blog didn't possess an element of surprise--a morsel of intrigue leaving the reader with double the thoughts s/he came with, and triple the yearn to come back. I don't know if I ever intended for my blog to be super thought-provoking in the first place, regardless, the comment got me thinking. Which is why this post is going to be about the most cliche of all cliches: a 20-something year-old girl living in New York City crushing on a bartender at a bar she frequents.

Sound familiar, much? Is blogging about this crush an even more extreme cliche? Am I mirroring my lifestyle to that of...*drumroll*... Carrie Bradshaw?! Shoot, if that means I'll end up with my own steaming real-life Mr. Big living in a penthouse apartment with a closet big enough to house all the beggars and bums in New York, then hell yea!

Just (half) kidding.

Now that I've digressed light-years from the focal point of this post, let me bring you back to it. Hello, bartender. Just for the record, I am surrendering my "cool" card to be a complete loser right now. Openly discussing my attraction to a bartender who doesn't know I exist is pretty substantial grounds for "loser" status, I'd say. So, the bar in question is a place where my entourage and I go on Tuesdays for happy hour. They have this great special (which isn't so great anymore actually, so now I have to find other innovative reasons to keep going to this lame bar) that brings in hordes of different types of people. Needless to say, I have been going to this bar for the Tuesday specials long enough to know the demographics of the crowd, and I'm jaded. A girlfriend and I decided against the special and just sat at the bar one day, away from the throng of beer, wine, chicken and donkatsu-stuffed people.

This is the precise moment at which he caught my eye. While my girlfriend chatted away about her off-again on-again boyfriend and the present status of their relationship, I couldn't help but stare at this new bartender. Never have I seen him before, and never have my eyes been so delightfully satisfied by a male specimen. I won't go into the details of what he looks like, but if you're curious, go the the 3rd floor of the building on the southeast corner of 32nd street and 5th avenue. You will find my ideal (looks-wise) man behind the bar there. How tacky and shallow of me does that sound? Whatever. I haven't been physically attracted to a guy in about 4 years and this bartender epitomizes "physical attraction." Hello, bartender.

After burning holes in him with my eyes for an hour, I realized that I wasn't able to muster up the courage to actually talk to him. Even ordering drinks from him was a task that took encouragement from my friend. It was awkward and uncomfortable for me because I'm usually pretty good at chatting up men, goodlooking or not. I don't get nervous or shy or anxious. Ever. But this was the first time in a very long time that someone made me feel this way merely by his looks. Seriously, if someone were to tell me to draw my ideal guy (again, we're only talking physical appearance here, people) and I possessed any artistic talent, I imagine I would've drawn a rough sketch of this fellow. After seeing him at work behind the bar, I saw him again at a club. Then on the subway. Then again at the bar. Then again at the bar. Coincidence? Of course not. Stalker? Maybe.

Okay, I'm really kidding. Let me regain my dignity for a second. This is how a crush typically starts. It sounds so childish and inane but that's the beauty of it. As long as you tell yourself not to have expectations and to keep the crushin' at a light level, it'll forever remain as a teenyweeny butterfly fluttering around in your stomach somewhere. In my case, this bartender is not someone I would ever pursue so I know the butterfly will flutter on out of my stomach one day and I can get back on my way to finding not another crush, but a husband. HAHA! -.-

I found myself at this bar again last night for their Tuesday special. To make a long story short, Mr. Bartender and I know each other's names now. And that's all I need and all you need to know.

Cheers,

Cheryl