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  • Writer's pictureLeah Jones

Flirting my way out of a paper bag.

Last night I got to hang out with a guy that was so cool, so attractive, and so my weakness (restaurant owner and bartender) that I couldn’t even talk about ice cream. Considering how I can go on at length about Chocolate Shoppe Ice Cream, Kona Coffee from Lion Coffee in Hawaii, and candy gift creations–he must have been quite attractive.

Let me back up.

Friday night, after dinner with Terry and Bill, Maureen and I ran into Miia at the bus stop. From the bus stop, we went to Phene Arms. Phene Arms is a renovated pub around the corner from the res hall. While we are there, we start chatting with insanely attractive Daniel–the new co-owner of the Phene. Like any new business owner, he tells us the whole business plan. Being open about the business, proud of what he is accomplishing, and ensuring that we will return. It’s called Customer Service.

“So has anyone in the audience ever mistaken good customer service for somebody hitting on you?”

Yes, me, constantly. Let’s see Jeff at Steamworks, Aaron at Falconburghs, and my own bartender Mike at Olde Tymers. The coffee guy, the bagel guy, the phone guy, the cable guy. All were just “doing their jobs” not “asking me out.”

I get tongue tied around these gung-ho salesmen, although in another land I am a gung-ho salesman and I sell Ice Cream with a dash of “maybe I’m interested.” Last night, after asking Daniel to reserve the lounge at Phene for me for my Leaving Do. (Wednesday the 17th at 7PM at Phene Arms) we get to talking. Okay, he and Maureen get to talking, I get to having a panic attack. Not a panic attack, but sudden realization of how it was I stumbled at speed dating. I can’t do this chatting and flirting stuff. Nope. Can’t.

If the president (in a world where it wasn’t Bush and I would answer the phone) called and said, “Leah, we’ve discovered the key to world peace. It is you flirting with and securing a date with the co-owner of the Phene Arms.”

I would have to apologize and say, “I’m sorry Mr. President, that too much pressure. I guess I have to sacrifice world peace, cause there is no way I can flirt with and secure a date with him.”

Somehow, through the magic Maureen conjures any time I’m in the loo at Phene, I come back to the table and suddenly we are putting on our coats and going to Po Na Na with Dan. It was another couple hours of me being tongue tied and spurting out maxims about customer service and not comparing ourselves to our successful siblings. All the time I’m thinking about how I ran out of the house without brushing my hair, in my ratty trainers, a baggy shirt, and no make-up. Not really, I am thinking “what do I say next” and missing every chance to nod or agree or even disagree.

A mute in ratty trainers ripping a label off of a bottle of Grolsch because I don’t smoke and don’t have anything else to do with my hands.

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