Gawker

I looked and wondered: Was he someone I had dated? How could I forget such a thing?

A friend at work recommended a book embarrassingly titled _How to Get to I Do,_ which advised that, in order to be successful (which all losers know means getting married), a women needed to decide if she's the woman or the man and then stick to that role in a relationship. It all starts with that first glance, the book said. If you're the woman, you've got to smile and keep eye contact to show you're interested. It's good to practice whenever you can.

The day after I read the book, I was sitting in a little cafe in Santa Monica, talking to a tourist who had long curly brown hair and was wearing a short skirt and cowboy boots. She was from New York and looked like Julia Louis-Dreyfus.

A tall dark-haired man walked in and glanced our way, so I made sure not to look away (as I normally would) but locked my eyes on him. I couldn't smile, though, because he looked sort of familiar.

I looked and wondered: Was he someone I had dated? How could I forget such a thing?

And then I realized it was Michael Richards! I was sitting next to Elaine's look-alike, and there was Kramer.

I felt like hiding under the table—I hate gawking at celebrities.

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