You came in the first day I worked alone at Raygun. I watched you play pinball out of boredom more than any interest in what you were doing. I remember noticing your tree pose and wondering if you do yoga. My crush was instantaneous and obvious. Also easily dismissed because of the dichotomy between us. Tacit admiration and friendly banter is all I ever expected. That day, you got a ball stuck in Taxi and charmed me into sliding the glass back so you could dislodge it. Assuring me it was a harmless fix, I was chastised for my actions later.

I encountered you sparingly after that. Discovering my own love of pinball in Belltown, I still don’t think I’ve ever seen you at Shorty’s. For me, the game quickly escalated from pastime to hobby to passion. Playing pins is something I do to relieve stress. A form of escapism, if I’m listening to music it literally transports me to another plane. When I’m playing no one can fuck me with me because I don’t care about the rest of the world. It’s my safe space and when I’m there I’m there to play. A long term gamer, pinball is a revelation and no one is taking it away from me.

Which brings me to the part where you completely fuck me over. I’ve seen you enough to consider you a friend at this point. We played in a couple tournaments and you know people that know me. My crush on you still lurking, I know you are a flirtatious person and don’t let you disarm me in casual encounters. Then you show up next to me at Jupiter that night, looking at me like that. I agreed to play with you because I thought you knew better than to mess with me. Was it the dress? Maybe the gin? Perhaps you were just in a bad mood. Either way you decided it was okay to try and get lucky.

Joke’s on you really. You could have used your moves on anyone else and probably gotten action. You decided to waste the impulse on me and start all this useless drama. To your credit, the aggressive making out is more than most people get so easily. Luckily, I’m a fucking lady and don’t go all in on the first date like a goddamn amateur. You are someone I’ve gotten to know for months. That night, you approached me. You kissed me. I deliberately kept a respectful distance before that. I want it noted.

Our moment of passion in the car is only a taste of the beast hiding inside of me. I’m deliberately hard to get to know. Like a tin man in the forest, incapable of interacting with anyone until they allow me to. Everyone approaches me at their own pace. I protect the people I appreciate by not letting them get too close. The friends I keep are curated from equal parts attraction and intelligence. Without heed, your bum rush sorta backfired when I didn’t fall head over heels. Now you’ve landed in the center of the arena with very little recourse. Especially because I met your girlfriend last night.