The guy sitting next to me starts playing the bongo drums... and he's actually good.. I look up and the handsome stranger sitting across from me reveals two rows of perfectly straight, white teeth. I blush (actually I don't know if I blushed, but it makes for a cuter story) and think how I'd like to stick my finger in the middle of his deeply dimpled chin—his chin butt, if you will.

I wonder if he's the kind of person who would put an ad on Missed Connections, or if I could be that kind of person, but luckily, I will never find out. He gets off at my stop and falls into stride next to me on the platform.

"That guy on the bongos was pretty good," he says as I stare up into his beautiful chin butt and reply in my very best Australian accent, in the hope that he'll find me both disarming and intriguing.

We walk along the street in the quiet Bushwick morning; I make a few jokes, we laugh, and soon we're both standing in front of the same building, keys in hand.

He starts unlocking the door, "Do you live here too?"

Now I'm definitely blushing as he holds the door for me. At this point I'd probably say "yes" to anything he asks—he's just that good looking, and one must never disappoint the shockingly good looking.

Once inside I head to my ground-floor apartment and he makes for the stairwell.

"It was lovely to meet you," I mumble, fiddling with the lock.

He turns and aims his chin butt at me. "Which apartment are you in?"

Man he is good looking.

"Cool, and what's your name?"

(CHIN-BUTT, CHIN-BUTT, CHIN-BUTT...) "I'm Kat."

"Kat, pleasure to meet you. I'm Peter." And with that, he's gone.

I swoon into my loft, gushing to my roommates before collapsing onto my bed to dream of chin butts.

Out with my friends the following night, I tell anyone who will listen about the frighteningly attractive man with the chin butt who lives in my building. I pray he isn't in a shitty band (a prerequisite for guys living in my building) and affectionately dub him Peter Chin-Butt (PCB). After a quick drink at Union Pool turns into 10, still swooning and talking veryveryquicklyandLOUDLYaboutpeterchinbutt, my roommate and I stumble home.

Drunk and giddy I find myself writing a note to Peter Chin-Butt, and then I find myself TAPING IT TO THE FRONT DOOR OF THE BUILDING. Drunk and sadistic, my roommate does nothing to stop me. The note says this: "Dear Peter From Upstairs, drink Monday? Kat xx"

The following morning, hungover, brain throbbing against the inside of my skull, I see the note still stuck to the front door of my building: That Awkward Moment When The Previous Night's Drunken Folly Rushes Back To You All At Once. My first instinct is to push past it—to rush through the door as quickly as possible and run for the train in a bid to get far, far away from the embarrassment. It doesn't occur to me until I get to work that Peter Chin-Butt probably hasn't even seen the note yet and that I should have just torn it down. Too little, too late, Kat George.

I spent the whole day stressing about the note. After work I go out with friends and yet again one beer becomes ten and somehow I find myself back at Union Pool (again, really?) eating fish tacos and talking to a hot but boring guy called James (hi James if you're reading this). When I get back home in the early morning hours, the note is gone.

The next day I meet my girlfriends for drinks after work and we talk about how much of a shameless dick Peter Chin-Butt is for just ripping down the note and not replying—he could have at least sent me a polite rejection, no? But then, as my friend Emma and I are climbing into a cab at 2am (yes, I'm aware that I stay out too late, too often) I see a message on my phone from my roommate:

"Hunky Peter left you a note!"

I squeal and thrust the phone into Emma's face, "look, LOOK! Even my straight housemate thinks he's a hunk!"

Peter Chin-Butt's note is a scrawled labyrinth of dates and suggestions for when we can get that drink, but no phone number... so I have to write back. Thus, the note exchange continues, until we finally meet again...

STAYED TUNED FOR PART II, NEXT WEEK