Friday, September 10, 2010

Diary of a helpless romantic

I bought exactly one flower for a girl I was romantically interested in many moons ago. Since it was only one flower, I guess you know how that story ended. Tomorrow I think I'll give it a try again, different girl but same tactic: Flowers as aesthetic bribery for romance.

So here's the story. I went to the OB street fair wednesday night with my best friend. We toured all the different street fares and found lots of delicious food. In our first loop through all the stands I found a pretty bouquet that I thought my mom might like so I purchased it. A few booths down I saw a gorgeous brunette manning a booth full of dessert baked goods. She was occupied with a decent sized line of customers when I saw her, so I was very pleased to take my place in the back of the line. I tried to think up something witty or funny to say, but nothing came to mind (there's not much you can say about cheesecake and eclairs). When my time was up and it was my turn to order I was pleased to see that she was in no hurry to rush me on out of her presence (very different from my technique at a certain retail establishment). She asked me how I was and seemed actually interested in conversing. Pleased, I decided to stall as long as possible, I tried cheesecake (I hate that shit) and remarked about how good it was (really it tasted gross, but she was pretty enough to elicit a smile and a compliment). Noticing the bouquets my friend and I held in hand, she remarked, "Flowers for your moms?" After I answered "Yes" (and then she said, "awww what wonderful sons you are.") I inquired about whether she always worked at this booth on Wednesdays. She replied that she did indeed always work there on Wednesdays BUT she also worked saturday mornings at the Little Italy farmer's market. This delightful sparkly eyed dessert goddess then invited me to check out the Little Italy farmers market, which brings us back to present time and my endless subterfuge.

I'm notorious for over-thinking my every move when I try to talk to beautiful women. But I can't help myself. So here's the scene: beautiful day, beautiful girl manning a booth full of delicious desserts (and cheesecake) in a farmers market in the picturesque Little Italy. A guy with a fresh bouquet purchased at said farmers market arrives. The queen of the desserts recognizes this flower toting gentleman and remarks about the flowers, "Flowers for your mom again?" To which our hero responds, "Not this time, this time the flowers are for you."

This whole shebang is rather simple to me. My options upon meeting this beautiful woman were: A) To return to OB farmers market every week till I could sweep her off her feet. The obvious side effect of this plan is that I would become an obese man from consuming copious amounts of eclairs. Or B) Try something daring and perhaps find the woman of my dreams. This is why I hate being a romantic. I imagine a future with every girl I meet. And I have been wrong soo many times. Oh, and there's the whole creepy aspect of it too. Everyone thinks you are a stalker extrordinaire because you take every chance you get or invent in the pursuit of a mere second of time to spend in the oft hopeless attempt at conjuring up a relationship out of thin air. I am just afraid that one day I will stop caring. I'll become jaded to that giddy feeling of immense hope and opportunity and end up a lonely old man who quit trying a moment too soon.

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