IKEA Waiter Boy.

Ever have a really excellent delusion?

For some reason, I'm in this mood lately where I think that IKEA Waiter Boy might actually be polite to me if I attempt to speak to him. I don't know why, maybe because he waved at me when I was, like, staring at him in American Cafe. (I was under the influence of a lot of cold medicine, in my defense, and my phone was not working - so I couldn't get anyone on the phone to distract me from staring at him as he tended bar.)

I need to completely ignore the IKEA Waiter. I mean, Edmondson and I decided the night we met IKEA Waiter that he probably wasn't gay. He was in graphic design, certainly, and his hair was highlighted, true, and his name made him sound like he was a member of a boy band, as well. He talked to us about his job search and about relocating to the city from one of the Carolinas, which I suppose even straight guys do.

And he was lanky, scruffy and sorta geeked-out adorable, which incidentally makes him someone that Lupo would notice moreso than me.

I'm just surprised that I didn't do my usual thing of talking to him and making a complete fool out of myself. I mean, I only asked him one question: "Are you the IKEA Waiter?" And I only asked him after he waved at me.

He's out of my league. And I didn't even ask him about his job search or make some sarcastic comment about his furniture.

I need to get IKEA Waiter out of my head.

I've not felt this way about a waiter since that time the cute guy waiter hit on me while I was having lunch with my mother that one time. My mom, noting who the waiter was paying attention to, got angry with me when he wouldn't fill up her water but kept asking me moment-to-moment if everything was all right. At the time, it was really embarrassing. Now, it's just funny.

But nothing will ever happen with me and IKEA Waiter Boy. I will not be traveling to Toronto with him, holding a civil ceremony and moving into a Europop-style furnished condo with him. We will not admit our love story to IKEA execs and, because our story is so inspiring, get an offer to appear together in some nice, high-profile commercials and magazine print ads. We will not, following in the trendy example of Angelina Jolie, adopt Cambodian orphans and raise them in a happy, expensively-furnished ARCHITECTURAL DIGEST-looking home.

Maybe I should go back and find someone more in my range, like that semi-psychotic Christian boy who feared his parents' deaths and couldn't do his own laundry. Or I should go to Ash and hold his hand and inspire his poetry while he serves some lengthy prison sentence for tax evasion stemming from his activities as a middle-class loan shark. Or I should find Ejay, get reminded about what his real name was and see if he's come out yet to his ex-wife.

IKEA Waiter Boy is a myth. His catchy banter abilities are probably lacking. He may have nothing interesting to say beyond talk of IKEA. He probably already has a girlfriend. Or, better and worse, a boyfriend. Or he might just not be attracted to me, which is a common occurrence.

I love these delusions, though. They're so much better than real life.