This must be what death feels like

Let's suppose for a moment that I wasn't making it up about that director guy in the cafe, and let's suppose instead that it's all true, and then let's call him Conor: because that's his real name.

I saw him before he saw me, but when I caught his eye I looked away again quickly just in case I turned to stone. He's kind of hot, I thought, wandering off to the salad bar where there were decisions about broccoli to be made.

"Where do I know you from?" he said, in the queue behind me and I turned around and saw him in close-up for the first time. Yes, definitely hot, and I had definitely never, ever seen him in my life before. But I didn't let on, I just stood there for a moment looking thoughtful like: Yeah, where is it that we know each other from? Now let's see, where could it be?

He looks married, is what I was really thinking. At least, he has a beard, which is always a dead giveaway.

"I don't know," I shrugged, losing interest. "You're working at the film studios, maybe?"

"Yes," he said, surprising me. "That must be it." And we shook hands and introduced ourselves and that's when he said: "Of course, that's where I know you from, I've seen your blog."

This must be what death feels like, because all of a sudden that entire blog of mine was flashing before my eyes and needless to say some parts of it were flashing bigger and brighter than others.

"You get this a lot, right?" he said, misreading my anguish, and I had to laugh.

"No," I said. "Not a lot." I told him about the only other time, when the drunk, pretty girl came up to me in Eddie Rockets one night and I had wanted to hug her and never let her go. She sent an email later, I told him, saying meeting me was the highlight of her night, and I was like no, believe me girl, meeting you was the highlight of mine.

He laughed, and we chatted for a while, and just as I was figuring out that despite the beard maybe he wasn't married after all, all of a sudden lunchtime was over and I had to go.