From December

story:

I gave my number to the photographer at an party-like event. I'm not sure why I did this because it's not something I do. In retrospect I blame peer pressure.
Anyway, a few days went by and he did not call me. I figured, "hey it's New York. I'll never see that guy again . . . "

I wish that were the end of the story.
Unfortunately, it's not:

I was in the back room of a cafe that I frequent, happily making progress on a final paper. I decided that I needed another coffee, so I went to the front room to get it.

Guess who was sitting near the register, looking right at me.

So I said, "Hey," in the sort of casual way you try to have toward someone you gave your number to and they didn't call you. And he was like, "Hi, how's it going?" in the way that you try to be cool when you see someone you hoped you wouldn't because you were never going to call them.

And I ordered my coffee and a scone trying hard not to be totally mortified and puke all over the place. Luckily, the barista dropped the scone on the floor which made me feel like less of a fool, or at least like I wasn't the only fool in the history of humanity. Don't worry, he got me a new scone.

Anyway, I get the coffee and realize I'm all freaking trembly -- I'm SHAKING -- and I can barely carry the effing coffee, I probably already had way too much anyway. And now I'm sitting here with this huge coffee I can't even drink and a huge scone I can't even eat, and a long paper that I can't even write.