Four Popped Collars Cute

His style was the first thing I noticed. White polo shirt - popped collar - and fedora hat, slightly askew. It was simple, yet he was undoubtedly the most stylish person in the room...and the room was pretty crowded. Without seeing his face, I made up my mind that I'd have his number before the night was done.

Then I saw his face. He was was hot; four-popped-collars hot. He caught my eye, and in an uncharacteristically bold move, I held his stare (and I wasn't even drinking). The game started. He walked by, looked and brushed against me ever so slightly. I returned the stare and purposely didn't move out of his way. LOL. Two hours later we were still non-verbally flirting. Then the reggae came on, and I knew he'd make his move. They always make their move during reggae.

I was right. We chatted, flirted and chatted some more. He was an artist; lived 10 blocks away from me; and he was young. Pretty much the same dude I'd dated last year - except hotter and not a compulsive liar. Or at least that hasn't surfaced yet.

We texted back and forth (I hear it's all the rage with the kids these days) a few times, but couldn't seem to connect. I'd relegated him to the Flake File when he sent a text one Saturday evening:

"You still out?" I responded in the affirmative. He told me to stay put.

He took my breath away when he walked into the restaurant. Even women with their S.O.s, turned to look. His style was impeccable; a little Common meets Mos Def. Hot to def!

Two and a half hours later, we ended our rendezvous with promises to meet up again soon. I can't wait. Mr. Four Popped Collars Cute makes me smile.

Counting down to the weekend...and another opportunity to rendezvous...