Beautiful Things

It’s been a very long time since I’ve seen a guy and started to drool. I go to check out the neighborhoods of some houses and apartments that seemed nice. I decide that I would get dinner at Le Figaro Brasserie, this French bistro in Los Feliz Village. I sit down mulling over what to eat. The waiter comes by, and I notice the Issey Miyake cologne he’s wearing. I look up. It takes every ounce of restraint I had not to tackle him, punch him in the face a couple of times and make out with him. Just when my first wave of lust subsides he opens his mouth. This beautiful French accent spews forth, and the only thing that flashes through my brain is, “ohmyohmyohmyohmyohmy.” Embarassingly, I miss everything he says. Regardless I’m still a little warm (so to speak).