I have been known to frequent a bar or three in the past. The frequency of my barfly evenings, however, has slowed since I rediscovered my love for entertaining at home. Yet it was not entirely surprising that I found myself at the bar to watch the basketball game, have a cigar, a cocktail, and finish my newspaper – not at all in that order.
Three very attractive women celebrating “the two year anniversary of a 29th birthday” happened to take residence in the seats next to me shortly after I arrived. In deference to them, and because a good bartender tends to new people before friends, they ordered first. My friend the Smoking Hot Bartender turned her attention to me. Given the oppressive heat, I wanted something refreshing, bright, and interesting in a glass. I wanted a Santero.
SBH is a very good bartender; however, maybe three bartenders in this city can make a Santero. So I taught her. The three women to my left were intrigued. I offered them the cocktail to taste and then they were enthralled. A conversation was sparked. The four of us ran a conversational gamut between, the NBA Finals, current political landscape, post-feminist women, theatre, and more.
After returning from a visit to the wash closet, two of the three women had repaired to a table at the front of the lounge. The remaining woman, a striking brunette from New Jersey about whom I could find no NJ jokes to be told, and with a conspiratorial look about her, told me that she wanted “me to have some privacy when I asked her for a date.”
RR: I am flattered you would say that, and at another time I would have already made the dinner reservations, but I am not in a great position to date at the moment.
SBNJ: Of Fuck, are you married?
RR: No, divorced.
SBNJ: Seeing someone
RR: No. (Interrupting her next query) Listen, I am a bit emotionally unavailable at the moment. I dated someone recently, though briefly, that has forced me to recalibrate my approach to relationships. It ended in perhaps the only way it could – badly for me. Being the hopeless romantic that I am, I won’t say that the next person I date would be on some level a rebound because you just never know about these things. However, I think a bit more time to get my head around this is the only fair way for me and whoever “she” may be. I am still very happy we met this evening. I am glad that I ignored my newspaper, only watched two minutes of the game and had a great conversation with you and your friends. And I would love to continue getting to know you, but I don’t think you want to date me right now.
SBNJ: I understand, I think. You’re probably right; I don’t want to date you right now.
RR: Friends, though, right?
SBNJ: I said I didn’t want to date you, now I just want to take you home.
I will never understand women. I also wish that I knew how to date or “vote” for sport. SBNJ, I look forward to our exceedingly platonic coffee this Sunday.