It would be my pleasure to meet you at random get together. You just happen to be there, as a guest of a friend of a friend (of a friend). Whatever the connection is, it doesn't matter to me, cause finally—the universe has served you up, and there you are… on a platter.
I will shake your hand firmly and make excellent eye-contact. I will smile the moment I realize just how good-looking you are. I will repeat your name as if it were a question, cause I'm fucking terrible with names. But I'll remember yours. Trust me, I will act as if I forgot, but I didn't.
You will use my name every time you try to engage me in the conversation. I appreciate this, because I desperately need confirmation that you know who I am. Eventually I will need to refill my drink and you will follow suit, not immediately, but soon enough.
You will call me out on absolutely any weak point I have as far as my interests go. I have a soft spot for men who insult and compliment me at the same time, and that type of shit just works for you. BINGO. You hit the jackpot. Ultimately you will learn more about me and your insults will get more personal, I will have nothing to do but retaliate in a high-school-fashion by hitting you repeatedly on your forearms.
Yes. Kate flirting = hitting. Typical weak ass game, I know. Shut up.
At this point, anyone who even remotely knows me will be aware of just how much I am feelin' you. Don't be a pussy and please realize this. I can only smile so large and laugh so hard before I allow myself to appear way too thirsty. I have an internal alarm for thirsty behavior. I have too much pride.
The night will wind down and by this time I will know what brought you to NYC, your top five desert island movies/music and your guiltiest pleasures. Throughout the night I will agree to any empty-promise-suggestions you have about us doing something that will involve our common interests, except I hope you are offering genuine ideas instead of just filling our conversations with false invitations. Cause fuck, this happens to me quite often.
I will call you out on the fact that I will probably never see you again and to prove your interest you take out your phone and add me on social media immediately. At this point I will be at least three drinks deep and less patient, so to take this further I will enter my full name + number into your contacts. We will do the typical dance of "text me, so I have your number too."
I will text you back something completely stupid in reference to a conversation we had earlier in the evening, cause I think I am so witty and clever. I am. This is how you will remember me.
When its time to go you will give me a hug and a kiss on the cheek, only because of the whiskey, otherwise you wouldn't have the balls to do this to a girl you just met.
The next day you will text me, with the most random rebuttal to a conversation we had from last night, and you will ask me out.
…and then you will fall madly and hopelessly in fucking love with me. And you will thank your friend of a friend (of a friend) for inviting you to that one party... where you met me.
I'll thank him too.