Leaving home I hadn't time for my normal and very necessary coffee and breakfast, so I was glad the train got me to my meeting a little faster than normal, and I had a few extra minutes to grab something at that Swedish restuarant on Belmont. I've been going there for years, and liked the young lady who normally took my order, but she wasn't there, so her co-worker The Guy Who Likes Me, as I've nicknamed him, got my coffee. He likes to lean in a little too close to hear my order over the ever present cacophonous din, and his eyes never blink, as he looks deep into my soul, as if emitting brainwaves into me that say yes, I want to make love to you... I had forgotten about him, and when I saw him behind the counter, I thought oh, it's The Guy Who Likes Me, but I quickly noticed his eyes didn't lock on to mine like they used to, but kept drifting to the left. When he stepped away to get me some java, I glanced over to see what he was looking at, and saw a gorgeous blonde, looking fresh off the bus from Des Moines, hired to seat customers, who I somehow missed on the way in. As I surveyed the restaraunt, I saw many new young beautiful men, hard at work feeding the frenzied brunch crowd. Oh my, this looks like a fun place to work, I thought to myself. The Guy Who Likes Me returned with my order, his gaze rarely leaving the blonde. Walking out the door, I thought The Guy Who Likes Me seems to have found greener pastures...
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