Gabriel. His name is Gabriel!

After 2+ months of knowing this magical mystery person only through two photographs, I finally achieved that breakthrough tonight. I saw him in the flesh.

And I spoke to him. Several times. And most importantly, I know his name. (He theoretically knows mine, but I don't expect him to remember it. Just yet, anyway.)

It's Gabriel.

What a gorgeous name for a gorgeous man.

And as I predicted, I get the feeling that he may be someone of substance and not just a skin-deep pretty PC pin-up.

I made plans today to go to Cobalt. Maybe it's all the gym time I've logged this week -- about 3 hours or so -- that gave me that little burst of confidence to go in the hopes that he'd be working. Thanks to Frankie and Gene (hi guys!!) I would not be going alone. (Thanks a lot, Jason... that's OK, you've had a busy week. Next time, no excuses for ditching me, though!)

Gabriel (oh, will I ever get tired of saying that name?) is not merely a shotboy. In fact, he may not really have been a shotboy at all. He's a full-fledged bartender. The funny thing is, I noticed him the second I walked in, but it took about 20 minutes of off-and-on staring until I was actually sure that it was he of MetroWeekly "Scene" fame. (Just between yunz and me, my first impression, once I realized it was he, was that he wasn't actually as super-perfect as I'd imagined him to be from the pictures. But as I would eventually discover, the real Gabriel more than made up for any discrepancy in the physical picture. (Not that I am complaining at all about his bodily... whatever. He is really beautiful.)

Our interaction was limited -- bartender-patron relationship considered, I would actually say we interacted quite a bit -- to the three instances where I bought a drink from him. On the first try I ordered the rum & Coke (not one of my preferred drinks, but also not my hackneyed Citron & tonic standard order) and asked him if he were actually the one in the MW photos of a few months ago (which he confirmed). After complimenting him on the picture & on himself, I got his name and he got mine. It was right about then he'd captured my heart nearly completely. We shook hands and I didn't even remember that it happened until Gene and Frankie (who were watching the scene from a safe, non-interfering yet concerned, distance) confirmed it.

In a couple other interactions, I think I communicated my affection for him without coming on too strong, and certainly without any cliché patron-bartender speak. At least I hope not. I know he's paid to be friendly and all that, but somehow I did get the sense that he liked me, especially when I quizzed him on his favorite drink (something with vodka, he says, as if I needed something else to believe that he's the one for me!) and he asked me back the same question, and then I said he should make me his favorite drink. Then I was so ferklempt that I forgot to tip him, so I ran back from Frankie & Gene's little station and proclaimed to Gabriel, "I'm so bad -- I forgot to tip you!" (You know, I think I actually did tip him when I paid for the drink, but what the heck, it was kind of cute. At least I hope it was.)

I know it's silly to think about making a bartender, for whom I've fallen, somehow fall for me, but right now that's the best I've got. And in a way, it's pretty darn good. He seems genuinely sweet, he is a spectacular vision, and we seem to have a bit of chemistry (I hope real, not imagined. Something about this seemed real, or darn close.). And he's a smidge taller than me, not too much, maybe about an inch. Perfection.

So from now on, he will nevermore be referred to as "shotboy", "Jell-o-boy", or anything so dehumanizing. He is, henceforth, and will always be,

Gabriel.

Maybe I'll have a good dream tonight. A Gabriel dream. That would be really nice.