Just My Luck
Written by: Lara Sabian
In the time it took the short red head behind the counter to draw a smiley on the froth of my caramel macchiato I reconciled the fact that the possibility of getting the tall dark and handsome cashier’s number was long gone. Some people spend their whole lives trying to reconcile even the smallest of inevitable probabilities; I reconciled mine in the time it takes to draw a smiley: somehow, I still didn’t feel lucky. But, as it were (as it is for all of us really), one never knows how lucky they are until that lucky moment is replaced by a more unlucky moment that is irredeemable in every way. As I took my caramel macchiato I caught a glimpse of that very sexy cashier writing his number down for a very tall and blonde (and very chic looking) gentlemen; the cashier subtly caressed the other gentleman’s hand ever so slightly as he handed over the small piece of paper…I was luckier when the petite red head was making that smiley face…I just couldn’t have known it until I looked left when I should have been looking right.
Having looked left I walked back to my table with very little regard for what was right. Often we all get lost in our tunnel vision when we are determined to be let down by events that are otherwise inconsequential. Perhaps, if we relied more on the peripheral we’d get a better idea of what that good old “everything happens for a reason” really means. So I sat with a heavy heart. Not because two of the best looking guys in the room were gay men, but rather, because for a moment I wished I was one of them-even if only secretly.
Quickly I digressed back into the studious girl who was 4 months over due for a trim at the salon and way too comfortable in her joggers and now caramel stained gray t-shirt. To be completely honest the t-shirt was actually a very old and thinly worn long john shirt I often slept in…sleeping in it made getting dressed for studying a lot more convenient especially when studying on Sunday mornings was the furthest thing from that. In a matter of moments I was swept back into the dull essence of myself. The lingering yearning for something exciting was laid to rest as is often done by people like myself. I sipped on my caramel macchiato and let the moments of my youth be consumed by the relics of academia. Of course, that was until Santo sat down next to me. Well, not exactly next to me but in the seat closest to me. Most people when inviting themselves to your table will sit directly across from you: Santo wasn’t like most people or most men for that matter. (more…)
