The pursuit of the elusive Greek is not going well. After another failed attempt at getting him to fall in love with me, what is becoming clear is the immensity of the obstacles and the pitiful tools at my disposal to overcome these obstacles.
Me. This is probably the biggest. I'm scared. However, I am holding my own with eye contact, smiles, and the occassional witty repartee (which lasts for approximately 47 seconds before he flits back to his Very Responsible Job).
Him. It would appear that when he is at work, he is very focused on actually doing his job. This is admirable, but not helping. Throw in his own shyness (or fear), language barrier, and the fact that the owner(s) who look like the Greek mafia (I'm just saying that to see what kind of ads pop up), and it is a recipe for disaster.
This is not to even begin to discuss possible age differences and 1100 miles. That would be easy.
Match the person and their dating advice. Five points each.
Karen, my spiritual friend
Pat, my very practical professional pharmacist friend
Julie, our superblogfan friend
Shirley Feeney, from Laverne and Shirley
"drop your fork and shake your money makers"
"he needs your graceful directness"
"be bold - get tea to go and ask him out"
"dance the way I do when I want to attract Carmine Ragusa - works every time"
Do you see what I'm up against? Is there any hope? There needs to be a way where no way appears to be possible.
Currently Crushing On.
1 day ago