Life has a way of taking its time.
I first set eyes upon Jeffrey about a month ago at a familiar restaurant here in Charlotte. He was the bartender. I bellied up to the bar and he walked confidently over to me.
“Hey, bud,” Jeffrey said.
“Hello,” I replied.
“I’m Jeff,” Jeffrey added.
“Is that Jeff, or Jeffrey,” I asked.
“It’s officially Jeffrey,” he said, “but I like Jeff.”
”I like Jeff too, I replied.
“I bet you do,” he said with a wink.
Jeffrey is 27, a handsome buck, standing tall at 6’1”, 180 pounds, with chameleon eyes that change like mood rings. He sports a wonderfully thick pelt of a brown beard.
Even though we’ve known of each other for over a month, yesterday was our first lunch date. While only 30 minutes, we ate sloppy cheeseburgers and fried pickles. We sat side by side without a bar separating us. And we talked and laughed and shared stories and common interests.
Last night on his way to work he called me; this morning when he awoke he called me, and tonight he’ll call me.
While Jeffrey is one of my favorite names for a man, I like Jeff too.