Tag Archives: pick up artist

I told him I had a crush on him…

gingerI have a crush on the guy working in our local pub. Last Thursday I walked past and could see that he was working. I walked in. On my own. And sat at the bar.

This to me, felt as daring as the stand-up comedy and jumping out of plane combined.

This guy is no Brad Pitt or George Clooney – but he’s tall and twinkle and smiley and ever since he started working there at Christmas, I’ve liked him. Which, of course, means that I’ve been too embarrassed to talk/smile/interact with him in any way. Give me a guy I don’t fancy and I’ll chat away for hours. Somebody I even half like, though, and I have no choice but to totally ignore him. Obviously.

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The Greek. Part Two.

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So I saw the Greek again and it was lovely. We went to a pub in Hampstead (a pretty, old part of London) and then got dinner. He paid. I don’t know if this makes me a crappy person but this kind of thing now means a lot to me – not because I want a man to pay my way but because it feels like a sign of old-fashioned respect.

Just as we did the first time we met, we chatted for hours. He is clever and well read and a very good listener too. It was easy and he made me laugh.

I won’t go into the ins and outs of all our conversation because I’m not sure he’d like that but he said some very nice things, which made me feel embarrassed at the time but which I ran over and over in my head when I got home.

He said that the day before I came up to him in the coffee shop he’d been talking to a friend about his ideal woman. Then ‘this beautiful woman’ walked up to his table and seemed to be everything he had on his list. ‘And that was just your appearance. Then we started talking and it got even better. I could not believe my luck,’ he said.

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