Random things like this just happen to me...

Often plagued by insomnia, last night being no exception, I found my self sneaking outside for a cigarette at 11:30. I like to sit on this little stoop in front of Shabu Shabu. Its the perfect size, surrounded by exotic Japanese plants, and even has a little ashtray bowl sort of thing for the convience of customers (which I pretend I am, otherwise, they probably would tell me to get off thier stoop). Anyway, maybe it was the florecent glow of the streetlamps casting a flattering dewy- orange spotlight, maybe it was my hazy state of drowsiness, or maybe it was just blind luck, but out of the restaurant emerges the most beautiful boy I have ever laid eyes on (I'm telling you, those street lamps really do cast a flattering glow). I stare mesmorized, oblivious to the fact that I have major bed head (not the sexy kind) and am in my pajamas (again, not the sexy kind). To my surprise however, he approaches me. You know that moment when you meet a stranger, and a spark ignites, a familiar feeling occours, like you know that you could some day be best friends (or more) with this virtual stranger in front of you. I have no other way of describing it besides a blind sort of hope. The thought that perhaps one day you could be talking about this very moment and laughing at how far you've come together. OK- maybe I was just super tired. Whatever. The pretty boy starts talking to me. He asks what are good bars in the neighborhood. And on what can only be described as a spontaneous whim, desperate to escape the fight for sleep, I say "give me a minute to get dressed and I'll show you". Bold! Very bold, indeed haha! I kind of shocked myself, actually, because normally I would never have the spine to say something so balsy. I think I caught him off guard as well, but he happily obliged. 10 minutes later, we were at Murphys' Law. Murphy's Law is the kind of bar you frequent for the sole purpose of getting completley and utterly wasted. Its a mere block and a half from my apartment, perfect distance for stumbling home at 3AM, no cabs or subways required. Its a dark, crowded little hole in the wall, that plays bad 90's music so loudly you have to shout to be heard, even if your sitting right next to the person, which you most likely are considering the vast number of people in such a small place. Its frequented by off duty nurses and doctors from near by Lenox Hill hospital, and the young Hunter college types. The bartender there is fabulous, a straight out stereotype of what you would imagine an irish bartender to be, complete with interesting tatoos and attitude. Barley can understand a word he says through his thick accent, but you dont need to, for Murphys Law serves two things only; liquor and beer. No cocktails, no wine, no fuss. To be honest, I enjoy fuss. I love ordering a pomegrante belini with Moet instead of Dom Perion and a Strawberry garnish, but I dont have the luxury of doing so within a block and a half of my apt at 11:30 PM. Damn I should move to Chelsea. Im getting sidetracked. Anyway, if I had been more on my game I would have suggested somewhere a bit more romantic, but I should also mention the unfortunate detail of Pete, his "buddy" whom so inconveiniatly had to be tagging along. Im being harsh, truth be told, Pete was a very generous, funny, and mellow guy who didnt say much besides, "can I get you another vodka tonic?" (Pete footed the bill). Two drinks later and Mr. Handsome is looking a whole lot better (is this possible?) The dim Murphys Law lighting really does wonders for a mans complexion (I should know by now this guy looks good under any form of lighting!) Turns out hes got a personality too (shocker)! He was really charming, interested, and all together made for really good company. He spoke quickly and in an enthusiatic manner. You could tell he was one of those naturally optimistic people just by his tone of voice and the way he referred to his shitty internship as a "growing expierience". And every so often he'd throw in some unexpected, off beat wit, causing me to burst into laughter, and not just faux polite laughter, the kind that really throws you, shakes you, rattles your core. We left Murphy's Law about an hour later and walked back to Pete's apt on 73rd and York. I guess we all shared a mutual craving for wine (again, perpetually unavailable at ML) so we stopped by East River Liquors and picked up a $40 bottle of Chardonay (Thanks Pete). I was crossing my fingers and desperatly hoping Pete would reside in a penthouse atop a 40 store luxury condemenuom building, sporting a terrace that gave way to a breath taking East River view, high enough to pick up the light summer breeze and smell the salt of the nearby water. He had a first story studio, with a bunk bed and a 13 inch tv. At least it had cable. But I wasnt too disapointed, I mean, what had originally been a mundane Wed night has turned out to be something quite pleasant and enjoyable. I wont dulve into the detail of what followed, nothing x rated of course, but I do think my grandpa reads this blog (god I hope not!!) but just in case, I'll just leave it at I celebrated 411 late this year. Anyway, as the night progressed, my insomnia decreased, and suddenly I was very tired. He walked me home and was a perfect gentlemen. We said goodnight, exchanged numbers, and he even texted today asking if I wanted to get together over the weekend. How can I object?