Let me start off by saying I experienced my sexual awaking at age eight watching JJ Abram’s 2009 reboot of ‘Star Trek’. This is important context because I’d like to stress that living in Los Angeles, especially working at various Instagrammable establishments, you see celebrities frequently and it’s usually nbd.
I work at an art gallery so we get our fair share of B listers (Joe Jonas, Tyler the Creator, Natasha Lyonne, etc) who come in from time to time. But none have rocked my world to the extent of Mr. Pine. Fifteen minutes before closing, he breezes in with an entourage of three: two men— one average looking guy and the other looking (and acting) exactly like Roman Roy— and a woman: so slender and so attractive it was like like they had plucked her straight from a Paloma Wool runway show.
This is not even to mention Mr. Pine himself. He was a force. His stride was ten feet long DEFYING PHYSICS. His designer loafers clopped around the gallery floors as he commanded every particle in the room as all his own. He wore a forest green suit easily worth more than my entire year’s salary, drenched in a patchouli cologne so hostile it added another layer of might to his already god-like aura. Shortly after entering, he approached me at the desk asking for a pricelist. I opened my mouth but no words came out. I wondered if he could see in my soul that I had written a piece of fan fiction ten years prior with him as the central character. Truly a world-shattering interaction.