I often figure out who I genuinely like based solely on one criterion : who do I find attractive in a crowd of men. 

I am sitting at the Chic Hotel Bar, and there are at least 25 attractive men in my vicinity.  Most are tall and handsome.  Yet, one man keeps distracting me in my peripheral vision: shortish, pudgy, balding. 

Dammit.

Apparently, I have a little crush on PR.

On the plus side, no one who resembles the Bon Vivant has turned my head once.

That feels like a victory.

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