So there's this mysterious tattooed cute guy with glasses that works at the Barnes & Noble here on Hilton Head. For those of you not familiar with the place where I live, it's a little island in South Carolina entirely inhabited by tourists and college students and rich golfers. Not exactly the type of place that tattooed rocker boys move to, and my friends and I don't know this guy. He's always been nice and chatty each time I'm in the Buns & Nubile buying magazines, J.T. Leroy books or political nonfiction, and there's always been the temptation to just ask "Where did you come from?"
So today he walks into the bike shop. No glasses, David Bowie t-shirt, visible tattooed arms, and trailing a kid who looks like his twin. Little boy about 6, wearing a Sex Pistols t-shirt, studded belt, and mini Converse. I say, "Hey, it's the Barnes & Noble guy!"
He says hello, and then tells me he's looking for a bike for him and a little tandem attachment for his little boy. I help him pick out a rockin' red and black setup for the two of them, knock a few bucks off the price because I'm a sucker, and tell him delivering them will be no problem. Except it's outside of our range for the day, and usually my dad does the evening stuff on the way home. But he took the day off.
So it's up to me to deliver it. No problem. Deliver bikes to mysterious cute guy? Sure. We chat about David Bowie (I tell him about my rad Bowie shirt, we trade "first-show" stories, etc) and he leaves.
And I deliver the stuff. And he's playing Nick Cave when he opens the door, and asks me in when we unload the bikes, and then hands me a little CD case with two David Bowie bootlegs in it, saying "I made you a little thank you present. Or actually, it's my lame attempt at flirting."
My reply? "Diamond Dogs tour bootleg is the way to my heart."
I think I'll have to call him tomorrow to thank him.
This week is far better than my actual birthday week. Today Jill and I went for her tattoo consultation (and made a new friend--the counter guy, who is moving to Hilton Head to train full-time at a martial arts studio), ate sushi, and saw Hitchhiker's Guide to the Galaxy.
And my horse won the Kentucky Derby. Not literally my horse. Just the one that I looked at last night and the night before and said "I like that one." But still.
So today he walks into the bike shop. No glasses, David Bowie t-shirt, visible tattooed arms, and trailing a kid who looks like his twin. Little boy about 6, wearing a Sex Pistols t-shirt, studded belt, and mini Converse. I say, "Hey, it's the Barnes & Noble guy!"
He says hello, and then tells me he's looking for a bike for him and a little tandem attachment for his little boy. I help him pick out a rockin' red and black setup for the two of them, knock a few bucks off the price because I'm a sucker, and tell him delivering them will be no problem. Except it's outside of our range for the day, and usually my dad does the evening stuff on the way home. But he took the day off.
So it's up to me to deliver it. No problem. Deliver bikes to mysterious cute guy? Sure. We chat about David Bowie (I tell him about my rad Bowie shirt, we trade "first-show" stories, etc) and he leaves.
And I deliver the stuff. And he's playing Nick Cave when he opens the door, and asks me in when we unload the bikes, and then hands me a little CD case with two David Bowie bootlegs in it, saying "I made you a little thank you present. Or actually, it's my lame attempt at flirting."
My reply? "Diamond Dogs tour bootleg is the way to my heart."
I think I'll have to call him tomorrow to thank him.
This week is far better than my actual birthday week. Today Jill and I went for her tattoo consultation (and made a new friend--the counter guy, who is moving to Hilton Head to train full-time at a martial arts studio), ate sushi, and saw Hitchhiker's Guide to the Galaxy.
And my horse won the Kentucky Derby. Not literally my horse. Just the one that I looked at last night and the night before and said "I like that one." But still.
VIEW 3 of 3 COMMENTS
bombshellbetty:
Wow, happy you! Crushes are the real meaning of life.
scooter11:
Well, I don't think there's any question you've found your soulmate.