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  • It was seven degrees outside. I walked into the Peet's coffee shop at Coolidge Corner; cheeks flushed, looking forward to three hours of uninterrupted solitude in the warm comfort of strangers and Wednesday-afternoon interactions that would contribute to the ambiant noise and surroundings I would eventually settle into. Unsure of what to order, I became fixated on the robin's-egg-blue frames the barista was wearing. He spoke first.

    "Those are some kickass glasses." Being legally blind with an obscene -8.5 prescription, I was self-conscious of my thick lenses. "Thank you!".

    We launched into a back-and-forth dialogue, exchanging stories and nervous laughter. "You're a firecracker", he said. He made my Macha Green Tea latte, and I dropped my bag and could-double-as-a-sleeping-bag coat off at a table, walking by him again to the restroom. "You're wicked hot". I'm blushing by this point. Half because I was flattered, and half because every patron in the shop was invested in swiveling around in their chairs to check out our developing, and progressively awkward interaction.

    "I'm never this forward - you just bring it out in me", as I walk by the counter again. My cheeks are burning and I hurry to sit down, connect to wi-fi, plug in my earphones and study. An hour goes by before he's kneeling next to me, handing me a slip of paper. He had prepared a (decent) monologue, including how it was rare for him to connect with someone so easily, that I had made his entire week just by coming in that afternoon, that I could do whatever I wanted with his number, but that he would have regretted leaving without giving it to me. Everyone can hear this. He leaves the shop, and every female seated around me made eye contact with me.

    Of course, they commented on what happened and provided me with consultation about what to do.

    I haven't reached out to him.
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