Ironic Stares

without boasting, i can say i have 2 amazing talents: i can find irish soccer players anywhere and (according to multiple sources) i have no clue when a man is trying to pick me up.

i was on my way to find something to eat in NY when i found rob (or should i say he found me?). i paused on the sidewalk to look around for a place to eat and caught him staring at me. and not the creepy stare, but more like something i've come to call the ironic stare. you know the kind: when you're looking at a beautiful woman who's missing a few teeth, and you can't help but cock your head to the side, half smile and ask, "really?"

except in my case. i'm neither beautiful or missing teeth (unless you count my wisdom teeth) so i always think these people are staring at me in comedic disbelief, like i'm allowing myself to wander the streets w/a goober hanging out of my nose.

the first time i got this look was at a bar last fall. the guy lives nearby, and everytime we run into each other it's the same goofy stare. i saw him multiple times over the past wknd and he kept looking at me like i'm not real or did something stupid: head tilted, half-smiling, staring at me in bewilderment.

i looked away, but when i caught NY boy staring again, i had to say something.
me: do i know you?
him: no...you just look exactly like someone i used to work with.

according to my friend lisa, normal people know when they're being given a line. and then there's people like me who live in some happy bizarre world where the sky is purple and ignorance is constant.

i spotted a champps and was all excited about finding something familiar (the fries and i are friends), so after some random small talk, the light changed i started to walk across the street. rob followed.

me: where ya going?
him: home...or maybe not. (pause) do you want to get a beer?
me (a bit confused): a beer? um, actually i was on my way to get one now. (stated as more of a question) if you want to join me, you can. (pause) and your name is???

now before you judge me for being too trusting, judge me instead on my lack of understanding around chain restaurants. the reason why Champps has an extra 'p' is to distinguish it from the sporting goods store. i can't even begin to tell you how sad i was when i finally got to it...

so instead rob suggested a nearby irish pub, which happened to be just a block away from my hotel (and yes, i left that detail out). we ordered burgers and beers, watched the celtics/lakers game, and debated if basketball was better than baseball. we talked about our families, careers, and travel adventures. he's from dublin, 31, and used to play league soccer (b, does this sound like a broken record for me or what?!). he's just the right height, uber funny, and his eyes smile when he does. and every now and then i'd catch him giving me that odd stare, like i had cheeseburger on my face and he was amazed it stuck.

i assume in these sort of situations there's something going on that i don't know about, like there's a secret no one's letting me in on. maybe i do have a goober hanging out of my nose. but i have also learned these situations run the same way. both these guys started as very sweet strangers in random moments. and both ended w/a hug, kiss on the cheek, and the distinct understanding that none of it was real.

fun...but not real.

i want real. and i want to know what the damn secret is so i know why people keep staring!