meet cute: pave the way.

If I’ve learned anything about romance in 2018 it’s that dating apps are a misnomer. I think a lot of people, including me, go on dates, but it doesn’t often result in the conjugation of dating. So when I’m out in public – I’ve been practicing – flexing my meet cute muscles. Seizing the opportunity to linger in glances a little longer than usual and in general just flirt for flirting’s sake.

Meet Cute: (in a film or television show) an amusing or charming first encounter between two characters that leads to the development of a romantic relationship between them.

I’ve said it before but I work in advertising and I’m very good at what I do. My employers have referred to me as “walk-on-water” staff; I can do no wrong. My particular department consists of just myself and my boss. We shared an office for 7 years so he’s been privy to my maturation: I was in my early twenties when we met, since then I bought a house, became a mother, got engaged, legally separated, sold my house, and now started dating again as a single mother. He’s heard my ex scream at me over the phone before; he’s watched me burst into tears many times.  He provides a lot of advice and support and I, in turn, rat him out to his wife over text message if he’s eaten anything that will cause flatulence or cholesterol complications.

Our firm moved into a beautiful new industrial chic space slightly outside of the downtown core last year, and my boss and I are now in offices side by side. In order to stay apprised of each others personal lives and ongoing projects alike, we are oft found visiting one another. He sits in the guest chair across from my seat. I sit in the window sill of his office, soaking up sunshine rays like a cat (I love a good window seat).

Part of my glow up since divorce has included dressing more youthful. I’ve mentioned my new weekend uniform of ripped jeans and converse. I’ve adopted a new way of dressing at work as well. New body/new clothes; basically, trendier and tighter compared to pre-divorce depression wardrobe. On this particular day I was wearing what’d I’d describe as pale pink genie pants, black Timberland heeled boots, and a tucked in fitted black sheer and lace long sleeve blouse. I had let my hair air dry the day prior, leaving a wild beachy wave in it’s wake. I felt good, soaking up the last of the autumn’s afternoon sun, perched in my bosses window.

As I sat there with the right side of my body pressed against the glass, the conversation I had been in lulled; my boss became distracted scrolling through his emails. I watched a paving construction crew laying new asphalt. There were a lot of men outside of the window, two paving machines, two rollers, and a crowd of men waiting for the time that their task was to be done I assume. One such man strolled down the fresh asphalt, with a small toolbox in hand, and stopped directly in front of the window. He’s tall and fit with broad shoulders and his walk prominently lands on the heels of his boots, scuffing the smooth black road. He set down the toolbox and absentmindedly glanced up and down the work site obviously waiting for his job to begin. In my window seat I looked at his toolbox, trying to figure out what sort of task was his to complete, I settled on marking the road for the paint truck to come through – but I couldn’t be certain because what happened next was almost an adorable meet cute:

As the construction worker scanned his surroundings he looked up at our office building. We’re only two stories high but the footprint of the building could span a city block if we were downtown. The entire exterior is dark grey brick and lined with windows. A girl with wavey blonde hair is perched in one of windows, and she (hello, me) is totally staring at him. He did one of the most rom-com worthy double takes I’ve ever seen in real life, his eyes snapped back to me instantly. I watched as a smile crept across his face and I grinned back. He looked down to his feet. As he looked back up to my window he waved; I lifted my hand from my knee and formed a peace sign with my fingers. He laughed. And that dear readers, felt totally like a meet cute.

Whatever my boss said next I didn’t really hear. The sound of my name had snapped me out of my nonsense. He needed some sort of file from me and I left the window and went back to my desk to forward it along. About an hour later, I was seated at my desk, where my back faces my own window, just two panes of glass from where I had been seated earlier. My boss and another colleague involved in that day’s project were in my office with me. The pavers had mostly progressed past the line of sight from my window. My boss and colleague commented that they could see another coworker of ours jaywalking across the road, through the construction site on her way back to the office from lunch. I swiveled my chair and looked out to see her walking behind a roller as it made it’s way up the street. She waved up to us, I smiled and waved back, and my peripheral vision picked up a movement from the seat of the rolling machine.

My meet cute paver from earlier was waving again, as he drives down the new road. Now here comes me at my diddly-doodliest. I’m with my boss, a colleague, looking at a construction worker, and waves meant for different people have just been exchanged. I smiled at the giddy paver and I blew him a kiss; he blew me three back as he roared by at a snails pace on a asphalt roller. And all three of my colleagues burst out laughing, two inside with me, and one outside with him. I laughed, he laughed.

When I told my girlfriends this story via text my last message was “and later this afternoon a bouquet flowers showed up at the front desk addressed to the girl in the window.” “WHAT?!” Ok, ok, I’m totally making that part up. I never saw the guy again since – their jobsite had moved on by the next day – and he looked like he was my age which means he’s totally married. But honestly, I just really enjoyed experiencing mutual attraction/flirtation without agenda.