callme

callme
Originally uploaded by fluffmuppet.

I went to lunch in Manhattan the other day, with 2 of my closest mates.
It was a funny lunch, one full of innuendo, lesbian humour and double entendres. On the table next to us was this cute woman, with red highlights in her hair and red cord pants.
She seemed amused by our antics, our references to dildos and breasts between mouthfuls of korma curry and naan bread.
The way she would look up and grin in our direction, let us to think she might be gay.
One thing we were sure of is that she was cute.
I decided I should lean across and talk to her, but just as I was getting up the juice to do it she starts to leave.
"Quick girls, we must follow her"
So the one friend who had to go back to work pecked our cheeks leaving me and my partner in stalking crime, Dara to follow this woman.
I've seen movies, I know you can't be too close, but then again you don't want to miss the walk sign... It's all very complicated.
We crossed the busy manhattan streets between cab bumpers and against flashing red men, follow the cute woman in the white coat.
All the while I am reaching into my bag trying to find a pen and something to write on.
Then only thing I can find is a book of essays and a metrocard.
Meanwhile the woman has crossed over 20 something st and it's red man, no crossing.
I've missed my chance... Wait, no.. She has gone into a coffee shop, I see her past the traffic, in line...
Ok, here is my chance.
Dara has disappeared into a shop to try and get something to write on, just as I have decided to rip the cover off "Bulletproof Diva" and scribbled my name and number across it.
I run across the road and wait for the mystery woman to come out of the coffee shop, as I see Dara shrugging her shoulders as if to say "what the fuck are you waiting for?"
I was waiting for her to stir her milk in.
Then, fueled by temporary insanity, I propelled myself to turn around walk into the coffee shop and approach this woman.
When I opened my mouth to explain/introduce myself, all these stupid words fell out, I am sure she thought I was spastic.
I did manage to tell her that me and my friends thought she was the cutest woman we had seen all day and that she should ring me.
She smile broadly and said 'Thank You', blushing as I shoved my torn book cover at her.

I don't expect her to call me, it was more about being brave or stupid enough to actually be that kind of person.
At least we both have a story to tell about what happened to us at lunch on Monday.
I can puff out my chest and feel like I did something I have never done before.. and she can go home and tell her boyfriend about the woman with an accent who wrecked a book to write her number on.