Boys that were there there when we were perfectly dressed, when the make-up was fresh and immaculate, and when our minds and bodies were heavily intoxicated.

Come on ladies, we've all had at least one (or 3, or 4, or 12) of those guys that we've hated ourselves for kissing while we've been drunk. Yet, despite this hate, we've slightly congradulated ourselves for these alcohol indued kisses.

Anyways, I had one particular one. I had three "episodes" with him, all which were highly influenced by Rockaberry coolers, my drink of choice in high school. So, I've never spoken a sober word to this guy in my life and other than the odd awkward smile in a crowded hallway or an arm rub as I brushed by him at a dance, we knew little about one another.

So anyways, yesterday i'm working. Of course, by the end of my shift my physical appearance is a warfield. My hair is teased and falling everywhere, my face is shiny and blotchy, my eyes are shadowed with dark circles from little sleep for days beforehand, and my apron is dotted with coffee grinds. Anyways, after three years of virtually no contact and absolutely zero conversation, he decides he's going to order a double-tall caramel macchiato.

The event went as follows

Me: "oh, hi......."(followed by nervous laugh)

anonoymous drunk make-out boy: (his nervous laugh overlaps mine) "ohh, hi..um. I didn't know you worked here" (his somewhat stilted laughter has pivoted to complete mortification)

me: "I didn't know you came here!" (my mortification now far surpassing his)

a.d.m.o.b: "um, i never see you--"

me: (interpreting him) "--i'm in school so i only work--"

a.d.m.o.b: (interupts me) "uhhh, once in awhile?!"

me: "YEa! just once in awhile"

So at this point my eyes have slowly moved from his face to the wall of the pastry case which is less than two inches from my face. My face is bright red and I just want to die, or the phone to ring and be for me.

So then I gave him his change and washed dishes until he was gone.

Oh my. It was so horribly awkward. I felt like I was being punished for something. He gets his snobby drink and drives away in a nice car when i'm sporting hair that hasen't been washed in a week and i'm stuck behind this stupid counter.

It makes me never want to take the risk of serving coffee to another boy i've kissed again.