Guess what?
Starbucks Guy’s name is Jason.
I think I’ll still call him Starbucks Guy though. I don’t want him to Google himself or anything.
So this morning, I took a “flex” morning, which meant that I basically used three hours of the time I normally get screwed out of since I’m salaried (but normal folks would call it overtime or comp time) so I could finish packing up the gosh darned kitchen cupboards.
I spent the morning washing the dishes that Esteban has been avoiding like the plague. I swear, if I divorce him, it will be over the dirty dishes. And then I’d have to save up my money to marry Chauffi to be my house husband and make my non-existant children Hello Kitty sandwiches in their tastefully prepared lunches.
Then I toodled over to Starbucks for my morning jing. I was pretty motored already, having been up for several hours, so I opted for a Chai Latte instead of normal rocket fuel Caffe Mocha.
I recognized Surly Girl’s voice over the loudspeaker. Damn. Oh well. The day had started out fairly lousy so there was no reason for it to improve at that point.
I had my awesome Milwaukee burn CD playing though, and the sun was shining. I got up to the window and my suspicions were confirmed… it was indeed Surly Girl at the helm. No cute Starbucks guy to be seen. In fact, I could only see female baristas! What the fuck? Why would I come to Starbucks to see female baristas? That’s absurd! How do they expect to get any business at all?
Oh yeah. The coffee and stuff.
Anyway, I get up to the window and hand her my cash and she says “I see you’ve got your music playing. Jason always appreciates that.”
I did a double take. First off, Surly Girl was making conversation with me, which was a complete first. Secondly… whozzat? Whatzat?
“I beg your pardon?” I said. She might have been talking about the other Starbucks boy… the one who looks like Viggo Mortensen. The one my mom thought I had a crush on until I pointed out Starbucks Guy, the linebacker guy wearing the cute Dockers and the goofy smile. She then chastised me for always going for untraditional looks. This coming from a woman who looks like Cher and whose last date looked like an elderly troll.
“You know… the big tall guy? He always appreciates the music you play.”
I smiled a polite smile, giving the impression that I was merely humoring her, but inside I was doing little married lady leaps of joy. This was flirt confirmation, baby! Not only did I witness him telling Viggo about how I’m his “car thumping girl”, but he’s mentioned it to Surly Girl as well.
When you’ve been with someone for 12 years, a little thing like knowing that the Starbucks guy calls you his “car thumping girl” makes life worth living.
I must be giving off pheromones again.
Last night, Esteban came to bed late. I was in my normal comfy jammies and Green Bay Packers oversized t-shirt. He got into bed and gave me a hug. He talked to me a bit, my side of the conversation consisting of “Hmm?… Hmmm…. Umhmmm… Hhhhhuh….Yah… Mmmkay…” Then he gave up talking to me and I rolled back into my sleep position, which is on my stomach, one arm under my body, another under my pillow. Very chalk outline, actually.
And then I apparently sighed.
Man… the hands… the big hunk of Esteban next to me… ay carumba. I made my “I’m irritated and I want to sleep so please stop touching me now, ok?” sign which is “Hmmmmmmmmmrrrrrrrrmmmm!”
And then he accused me of being a big tease. Because he said I moaned. And I was like a luscious ripe strawberry.
Oh my god. He doesn’t get poetic like that very often, but apparently Vincent Van Gogh and Gaugin were correct in that lust drives artistic ability.
I’ve never been called a luscious ripe strawberry before.
That’s like one of the best compliments anyone’s ever given me.
I don’t have a very long list of great compliments from people I know personally. You know, ones that just make you stop and go “Wow”. Mary Kaye once told me that she believed that I would be the best at anything I ever decided to try. That was a wow. Someone else, a boy someone, once told me that my eyes were the most incredible things he’d ever looked into. I still remember that, even though it was over ten years ago. It makes me want to giggle and go “Aw.. shucks!” This is kind of dorky, but my college roommate Kassandra once told me that I had great eyebrows. I always remembered that because I hate my eyebrows.
And now I’m Esteban’s ripe strawberry.
Man.
Unless maybe he was just saying that my legs needed to be exfoliated.
Two of you were interested in a notify list, so there’s a button down at the bottom of the page now to add yourself to it. No one’s on it yet. If no one adds themself after 24 hours, I’m dumping it.
Yeah. I’m harsh that way.
