Things at work have been interesting. Hectic.

We threw a party after the Presidential election. I had a drink (a Screwdriver). I found out that Eddie's actual name is Edgar. That was actually a half-way interesting story. We threw the party in the after hours of the restaurant, after everyone had gone home except for the servers. We were waiting for the results...and when it became obvious that Obama had won, and McCain gave his speech...we set up for the party extravaganza (random note: I had to spell this word in a spelling bee in the fifth grade. I spelt it correctly). While we were doing this, Sarah had Eddie (as he was to me then) move all the glasses out of the way (we used plastic cups a la college party). Colin came out of the kitchen at the same time that Eddie was going in with a tray of glasses-without looking-and ran into Eddie. He lost several glasses, but not all of them, in a miraculous feat of server balance. Sarah thought that Eddie had just dropped them because he was being an idiot (which I don't understand. Eddie's never an idiot. And he's creepy graceful.). And she called out "EDGAR MCCLEAN!! THE HELL YOU DOING?!?!" I looked at her, because I was in the same room with her, and I asked, "His name's Edgar?" (and another part of me asked, "His last name's McClean?...my god...he's a highlander...) She said, "Yeah, didn't you know that?" And went to go and see what the hell happened. The story came out, and Sarah yelled at Colin instead. She likes to yell at people. I think it comes with the territory of being a single 38-year-old woman who never got past the city lines of her hometown.

When Eddie came back into the room, I said, conversationally, "So, your name's Edgar." And he looked at me with such a look...and said, "Yes." There was a lot more weight behind that 'yes' than there should have been. Things have not been the same between us since Raquel's party. I mostly avoided him at work, not in a deliberate way, but in a sort of oh my god I'm nervous about this kind of way. If I'm reading too much into the scenarios then I could ruin a good thing. Of course, if I'm reading too little into them I could miss a good thing. But, I'm not really thinking of this at all at the party. I'm relaxed. Obama won. Times are good. In the spirit of goodness I ask him if anyone actually calls him Edgar. He says that his close friends usually do. Then, while we're still there in the room, sort of off to one side away from the others, he says:

"If you want to call me Edgar, you have to become a close friend."

And he just smiles, and then walks away before I can think of any good comeback to that. The rest of the party was nice. Someone brought in an iPod and stereo thing and there was music and dancing. I danced with Colin and Mark (who everyone else calls Hunter...and no one will tell me why). I didn't dance with Eddie...or Edgar, as he shall now be called. Mostly because he didn't dance at all. He was doing the helping...you know. Collecting empty cups, offering refills....being a server, bascially. Except for Edgar and Mariah, all the rest of us threw off our server-selves like shoes. It felt nice.

The next day, not so much. I had to get up for a second-person-in shift at the boutique (as I've been calling it lately). At least I didn't open. I was still dead on my feet.

But that's how things went for the next week. I saw Edgar only twice in passing--he was in the morning shift and I was coming on for the evening both times. I didn't even get to say anything.

Yesterday, Edgar came in  off-shift. There was a bit of a squirmish in the lobby about who he was going to sit with. I didn't realize that Edgar was popular with the other female servers. Okay. Honestly, I didn't really notice Edgar much at all. I mean, he was Eddie. He does the quiet blend thing really well. But he was there with his two of his friends--a very attractive brunette guy and his *ahem* partner, a not quite as attractive dyed black haired guy with an eyebrow piercing. Sometimes I forget that its not LA here and that gay guys are still sort of ooooh aaaaaah. Not as much though. I think that all of the younger generation of people I work with voted against Prop 8.

I'm getting off track.

Edgar and Co. come in and there's everyone saying, "oooh sit with me" and the like. And since its Sunday night, it's not exactly bustling, so Edgar can pretty much have whoever he wants. And he asks, polite and calm, "Is Elina working tonight?" And one of the new girls says, "Uh, yeah, she's working the back five tables tonight." There was a bit of a hush, but then the people started talking again. I was listening in from the side station, not sure if I felt relieved or disappointed that my section was full. Someone told him that--didn't see who--and he then asked if Colin was working, and had any tables open. He did. On the opposite side of the restaurant from me.

They left before I was finished so I didn't even get to see them on their way out. I was still sort of puzzling over the meaning of him asking for me. I mean, he had all the other girls around him practically flashing him to get him to come sit with them...but he asked for me. I don't know. I think that's a pretty clear sign. And if I'm going to think anything into the little flash of heat I got from when he spoke up, I'm thinking I've definitely got myself a crush going. On a guy named Edgar. Well. Could be worse. Could be named Cole.

I'm just too much of a chicken to act on what he said before. I mean...I can talk big, but the fact of the matter is that I don't know him. And I still feel like the New Girl In Town. I don't want this screwing things up for me.

I think I'm going to Target. Maybe this calls for a new outfit. I'm thinking...something warm and fuzzy. Sweater? Yes. I am getting serious sweater vibes calling my name from Target. Off I go.