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You see them in a business suit, carrying a brief case, multiple files and a smart phone. Up until today, I was convinced that almost every man in business used the smartest “smart” phone, but I stand corrected. This was confirmed when I was walking to my first marketing class.
For some reason I decided to walk a different route, passing Tiffany’s and the huge flagship Nikey town. Wearing 3 inch heels and trying to pass the tourists on Fifth Avenue every Thursday is the hardest part. So needless to say I turned left on 57th and 5th, ran down the street and suddenly bumped into a self proclaimed-Mr Manhattan.
He stopped and said hello, so I said hi in sheer embarrassment and started to walk when he asked me where I was off to, I said Starbucks when he then asked if he could take me for lunch. Obviously my answer was no and that I had to get to class.
He followed my two steps, asking if he could take me for lunch tomorrow instead, I started to count the wrinkles on his forehead. Noticing that he took his blackberry out of his pocket, vigilantly keeping his leather glove on his left hand. At the time I was thinking of class, the pair of shoes I just had fell in love with, and Starbucks. He suddenly asked how old I was and when my answer was 21, reversing the question to him he said: 36. Well, clearly that “36” was a 46, but I decided to investigate this Mr Manhattan, I mean after all, I did bump into him out of no where, and my intuition told me to take a different route for whatever reason.
So I gave him my number and continued running to Starbucks so that I could make my 11.10 class on time. One of the Batista’s goes to school at Baruch and always talks to me, as I come in every Thursday. Coincidentally we are both studying marketing, so there’s never a dull moment while his mixing up vanilla spice lattes or java chip frappachinos. When he handed me my regular drink, and said “see you later” I said yes, not thinking twice.
Finally I get to class, get out early, go buy the shoes I was dreaming about, and with 14 minutes left head back to Starbucks. As I ordered my regular drink, and went to scan the card on my iPhone, a different barista asked me my name. Well, I guess I must be the only Blonde Mercedes that goes to the 55th St. Starbucks, because I was told that the drink was on “Aron”. I looked around and saw no Aron carter, which was the only Aron that came to mind, and then as I walked around the corner and saw the barista smiling I thanked him. It turned out that the guy from Baruch kindly brought me a drink, so I thanked him profusely as we spoke about job opportunities in the marketing world, and walked out.
As I was sitting in my marketing research class, watching a video on spaghetti (yes seriously) for an hour and 15 minutes, suddenly a text came through from a 917 number. Apparently it was Mr Manhattan, but before I was ready to quit this experiment I had two questions, 1) if he bumps into every girl on 57th street-mid morning and secondly, what he did as an occupation (Yes I was curious!).
So once he answered my two questions and asked me if I was going to Starbucks tomorrow I decided to tell him that I was in a serious relationship with my boyfriend, but kept professional insisting that it was a pleasure to meet him. (and later write a novel about the occurrence on here)!Well, that’s when things progressed to get interesting.
After telling Mr Manhattan that I had a boyfriend, and that I would have to decline his offer to go to lunch with him, his response was the following ” I was going to say the same over coffee, beat me to it. Was fun, good luck to you and your studies”
continuing with…“Agreed, wouldn’t work, was fun to pretend. Great meeting you as well”
I stopped answering, wondering in my head if “Mr Manhattan” had a boyfriend as well, or if he had kept his glove on his left hand for a reason, but I deleted the text messages, and went on to write about the experience. I can officially say that I have never been happier to be out of the dating world- in love- and in a serious relationship with my Mr Detrizio.
