Yes…some would call him a geek. He has a substantial beer gut. Ginger hair and a small goatee. He pokes his glasses further up the bridge of his nose and orders an orange juice with a small cocktail umbrella. He doesn’t even like this pub but he’s seen a girl here before, she comes every Thursday. Maybe, he thinks, she’s his gal.
She’s in the corner again, clutching a small glass of white wine with elegant fingers. He takes his drink, swallows it in one and heads over to her.
“Hey babe,” he says. Maybe the cury stained shirt wasn’t such a good idea.
She looks up. Oh!Beautiful eyes.
“Um hi,” he stumbles. He resorts to old, “If kisses were snowflakes, we would make a blizzard.”
She fixes him with a steely glare. He looks around, embarassed. His cheeks are beginning to resemble his hair.
“Do you mind if I hang out here until its safe back where I farted?”
This time a smile twitches.
Finally she sighs, “How heavy’s a polar bear?” she asks. He shrugs…bewildered. “Heavy enough to break the ice.” She kisses him.