Intelligentsia Desk, at AnthropologieI want to go "out" with this desk so bad. The Intelligentsia Desk is charming but subtle and not at all flashy. He's sophisticated but simple. He's obviously incredibly wealthy (as his price tag is a brow-raising $1,298).
I'd be nervous before he picked me up but I'd pretend that I wasn't. He'd take me somewhere completely out of my league but he'd walk in with ease, guiding me around by the elbow, wanting to introduce me to all his acquaintances. He'd buy me a drink but not force one upon me. And, in one moment when I'd be distracted by the neon or an audaciously short skirt, he'd catch my eye, slip out the smallest of smiles, and mouth, "Let's get out of here."
We'd disappear together, finding ourselves at some dive bar (because neither of us had wanted to end the night). Here, as we'd nurse our final cocktails, he'd tell me that he wanted to see me again, "...like next weekend or...uh...maybe the weekend after, if you're not busy." And he'd shake his head, embarrassed at his blush and stammer; whereas I would smile at the crack in his confidence and fall just a little in love.
When the night finally did end, we'd chat in his car for an inappropriate amount of time before he'd walk me to my door like a gentleman.
If it all went down like that, I could overlook the fact that he's got a textured glass top (boo).
I'd be nervous before he picked me up but I'd pretend that I wasn't. He'd take me somewhere completely out of my league but he'd walk in with ease, guiding me around by the elbow, wanting to introduce me to all his acquaintances. He'd buy me a drink but not force one upon me. And, in one moment when I'd be distracted by the neon or an audaciously short skirt, he'd catch my eye, slip out the smallest of smiles, and mouth, "Let's get out of here."
We'd disappear together, finding ourselves at some dive bar (because neither of us had wanted to end the night). Here, as we'd nurse our final cocktails, he'd tell me that he wanted to see me again, "...like next weekend or...uh...maybe the weekend after, if you're not busy." And he'd shake his head, embarrassed at his blush and stammer; whereas I would smile at the crack in his confidence and fall just a little in love.
When the night finally did end, we'd chat in his car for an inappropriate amount of time before he'd walk me to my door like a gentleman.
If it all went down like that, I could overlook the fact that he's got a textured glass top (boo).
No comments:
Post a Comment