So I sat there in Starbucks, even though I’d said I wouldn’t. But I had 22 minutes till my brand spankin’ new part-time gig started.
I was looking through my notes for my book, thinking through plot points, getting a sense of where I’d go next. But partly I was just distracting myself so I’d stop feeling anxious. My new gig, you see, is at a wine store. And I have, like, zero knowledge about wine.
A man sat down opposite me. I was immediately struck by how clean he was. (You can take the girl out of Peace Corps, but you can’t take Peace Corps out of the girl.) This was one super clean guy. Well-coiffed, well-dressed and just definitely gay, in case you missed the subtext. Also, he was clearly trying to catch my eye.
Reader, I let him.
He asks me something no-one has ever asked me in my life. “Is that ravishing necklace of yours Tiffany?”
Now, I’ve never named my necklaces. And no-one’s ever assumed I could afford anything from Tiffany’s. So I answered in the most logical fashion. I gaped. Then caught myself. “Sorry?”
“Your necklace, is it Tiffany’s?”
Blink. I touch it. “Oh, I’m not sure. It’s a gift.” Of course I’m sure. It’s definitely not.
At which point he tells me it looks so Tiffany’s. And that his Tiffany’s watch is currently being fixed and he feels just naked without it. I smile. He would so hate Peace Corps. “Well,” I answer finally, “you don’t look naked.”
Which I mean as a compliment, even though it occurs to me I might be misunderstood.
Anyway, it was amusing to be mistaken for a woman of means. And he was very charming.