Hey Pixie Bartender

Dear Cutie Pixie Brunette Bartender,

I adore you. I don’t actually want to know you, I’d rather just make up a fantastic story in my head, and be a little bit in love with you for tonight. Don’t get me wrong, I’m sure you’re a good person, and worth knowing. Under different circumstances, I would totally ask you to coffee, or “to do something, sometime.” Is that how boys approach girls in New Zealand? I guess it doesn’t matter, I’m horribly shy sometimes, and I’m not really sure how I did it in America either, it just sort of worked itself out. A couple of shared glances, quick shy smiles, and the inevitable, “hi…” Simple is usually better. Simple is always better.

But enough about me, let’s talk about you. Or how you got into those jeans. Or that smile. Sweet Jesus, what about that smile! I know you’re the bartender, and smiling is part of the job, but still. Miss, your smile, it makes me stutter. It makes me want to get a regular day job, just so that I can call in sick and stay home to build forts out of blankets and couch cushions, and drink wine or tequila with you in our fort, and laugh and smile at each other, in our couch cushion fort. That’s what your smile makes me want out of life. They play the music way too loud in your bar, but I like that you dance along with it. I impressed that you especially like Hotel California. The Eagles sort of suck, but that song is a classic. You look like the type of girl who has good taste in music, and that is very important to me.

I like that in this trashy dive, full of 20 year old girls in high heels and mini skirts, you’re rocking jeans and a t-shirt and Chuck Taylors. Your natural beauty is a thousand times more impressive than any of the others. I’d like to hold your hand and wander around downtown. I’d like to take you on tour in The States. I promise, I’ll show you a good time. I’m a local everywhere.

Alright Cutie Pixie Brunette Bartender, one more pint, and I’ve got to hit the road. This is getting to be awfully serious for me, and you should know now that I don’t do commitment well. I’m only in town for two months, which means that I would of course meet someone like you. Someone to adore, if only just for now. You will think I’m grand, because I am grand. And I am foreign, and new, and shiny. We’ll share stolen smiles on borrowed time. I’ll be your American Boy for the season.

I’ll be your someone you tell friends about. I am worth it. But at the end of the season, I’ll leave you.

xo,
Sean

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7 responses to “Hey Pixie Bartender

  1. Right back at you, Sean- this is one of MY new favourite posts.

    My most bestest lines are: “Or how you got into those jeans. Or that smile.” but I love that entire paragraph. Keep us posted!

  2. Awe – you just made me want to built a blanket fort with you! The power of words.

    You know what, I have a notebook full of unsent letters like this to boys I never talk to.

    You remind me of someone I know…he’s currently living in a trailer in the forest in northern alberta with his dog. He has a way with words too, but he doesn’t like to stick around any one place for long.

  3. I know I say this every few months about a line you write, but this one has got to be my new favorite:

    “your smile, it makes me stutter. It makes me want to get a regular day job, just so that I can call in sick and stay home to build forts out of blankets and couch cushions, and drink wine or tequila with you in our fort, and laugh and smile at each other, in our couch cushion fort. ”

    Fantastic.

  4. Drinking wine and tequila in blanket forts!

    This is the stuff dreams are made of. Ahem. Mine, anyway…

  5. I like this one a lot, seanbrown.

  6. Pingback: Introducing the Miller | The Anarchist Project

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