Why Can't They Like Us Back?

Last night I went out with Tall K after work (For those who asked about Tall K: he’s 6 feet 7 inches, gay male co-worker, I’m his first straight crush, yeay!). Anyway, at about 8:30 pm while nursing some gross drink, I decided to go get food and cab home.

As I’m waiting on the corner, who hops out of a truck with a friend? iBartender. I thought I’d seen the last of him, but I guess it’s a small city, this San Francisco.

He got out of the truck and walked swiftly toward me. “Hi Miss Curious,” he said without hesitation in his stride, and he wrapped his arms around me. For a second, I thought he was going to kiss me, but then, maybe that was just me and wishful thinking.

I asked how life was without the old bar… he seemed kinda’ down, but was telling himself those things that people tell themselves to get by… to justify the hard times and reassure themselves that the sadness will end soon.

He then asked, “is the bar the same without me?”

Not giving me anytime to respond, “please tell me it’s not the same. I need to know it’s not the same.”

The tone in his voice was so sweet… he was pleading… pleading for me to almost tell him that everything was going to be okay.

"Of course it's not the same." We briefly chatted a bit more.

His friend was waiting… he ran off, and I waited for my cab.

And you think you don’t care anymore about a person, but then seeing him, hurt just a little.

I stood there on the corner thinking… iBartender, don’t you remember having our lips pressed against one another’s… our tongues touching… your hands cupping my face… why couldn’t we always be like that? always do that? and then, get giddy about our music?

Such a shame.

Unreciprocated affections.

Hm.