Two weeks ago, I was enjoying a coffee at this uber-hip coffee place near my neighborhood. The weather was cool and crisp – a real treat for Southern California. This place has great java and is pretty popular with my artsy, eclectic neighborhood so there was a long line out the door. While I was waiting my turn, I was reading Steve Martin's autobiography and I chuckled out loud.
"What's so funny?"
I turned to see this tall, adorable, broad-shouldered, tall, blonde man smiling at me. (Did I mention he was tall? And I'm a sucker for tall? Oh yeah.)
"Oh, uh, Steve Martin's autobiography", I say, tapping the book. "Funny guy."
"Indeed. So, what are you doing in a place like this? You don't look like an unwashed hipster."
I couldn't help but laugh and a conversation was started. He offered to buy my coffee but I declined.
"Next time", he said with a wink.
Who the hell is this guy? And do people still "meet cute" in coffee shops these days? Aren't we all supposed to be meeting and hooking up on Facebook and Match.com (or Adam4Adam, if that’s your thing)? Exchanging blog addresses instead of telephone numbers?
We sat and chatted for a bit. It was actually nice and very easy. He works in the music industry and travels quite a bit for work. No need to beat around the kid bush - he has a pre-school aged son whom he adores. After about 25 minutes, he had to head to a meeting at a nearby record label and I had some errands to run. We exchanged numbers and went our separate ways. I have NO idea why I gave him my number. I haven't really dated since the separation and even though I was a bit once-bitten-twice-oh-hell-to-the no, something said "Go ahead."
Music Man (or should I call him Motorcycle Man? Cool Rider?) and I have been talking and emailing pretty regularly. We seem to have the same sense of humor and spend most of our conversations either laughing or talking about our kids. We met for coffee again and our conversation flowed so smoothly that we wound up spending an entire afternoon in the coffee shop.
And then there was lunch on Friday. When he picked me up on his motorcycle. I was alternately excited and scared to death. He misunderstood when I said I hadn’t been on a motorcycle since I was 7 or 8. He thought I meant I hadn’t been on a bike in 7 or 8 years.
So the ride to the restaurant was great. MM likened me to a scared cat, clinging to the ceiling. I was so tense and was countering all of his turns. Apparently, you aren’t supposed to do that. Who knew? I was literally just hanging on, praying that we wouldn’t get into an accident. I was also willing myself to NOT bring this ride up to my parents. My father is a doctor who has treated more than his fair share of motorcycle victims and I know he would be upset if he knew I was tooling around on the back of a bike.
Our lunch was great – another “Oh God! Where has the time gone?!” meeting. Yummy sushi and lots of laughs. MM also gave me some motorcycle tips that boiled down to “Chill out. Go with the flow” and the ride back was much better. He kept patting my leg and saying how proud he was of me. I was still a bit scared but I would be lying if I didn’t say it was also A.MAY.ZING. As soon as I was back at my desk, I texted MM to ask when we could do that again.
He picked me up at 9am this morning. And yes, I was humming that song the entire day.