Abracadabra

I’ve been taking a little break with the Tennessee stories (there’s a couple more, don’t worry) to tell you about my Sunday night a few weeks ago. I get myself into the damndest situations sometimes.

I was out for “date night” with C and A, we started at the Patio and then we headed to the Ark, of course. X met up with us there and we were all hanging out, having a good time. All was well until I went outside for a cigarette and X’s girlfriend made friends with the some chick bartender from another local bar.

X’s girl and the bartender are chatting about clubs and dancing and the bartender girl, who appeared to be straight, mentioned how she loves to dance at Paradise because the boys won’t bother her. So I say that of course none of the boys will bother her because it’s a gay bar. She starts laughing at me and says something like no shit, implying that of course she knows what kind of bar it is.

She then gets up and walks over to me…and X apparently, is a bit more intuitive than I am because he ushers his girl back into the bar, as if he knew what was going to happen. I’m so oblivious sometimes it’s not even funny. Anyway, bartender girl is now in my face, yanking my hat off and proceeding to make out with me. Ok. Great. Are we done yet, because this isn’t actually kissing, it’s more like she’s eating my face. She’s now telling me how cute I am and I told her that the last time I saw her was on Christmas night when we left the Ark for a little while and went to her bar. I remember because she was dressed like a slutty elf. She thinks it’s hysterical that I was there that night and that I remember her. And then I told her that she’s a lucky charm for me because I hooked up on Christmas too. More hysterics. I’m not really that funny…she’s just that wasted.

I get her to come back inside and as soon as we get in the back door she drags me back outside. Christ. I’ve had enough of her for the moment and I know word of my making out has spread like wildfire through the bar and I would like the chance to defend myself.

I finally got back inside and sure enough, I am the topic of conversation and there’s a lot of pointing and laughing going on. Fuckers. And X comes over to me and says,

X: Isn’t that the bartender from Christmas that you told me you wouldn’t fuck with my dick?

B: Yeah.

X: Ha.

B: Ha your ass. I didn’t fuck her yet. And I’m not planning on it.

And it only gets worse, because bartender girl is pretty relentless. She decides I need a massage. And I keep drinking and am not one to pass on a rub down, so I straddle the stool like she requests. So she slams my head down onto my arms that are folded on the bar and goes fucking crazy. She is kneading on my lower back so hard I can barely take it. And every time I pick my head up she slams it back down and whispers, “Oh baby, you need this. I’ll take care of you.” What the fuck. I finally glance over to my friends and they’re being as supportive as you’d expect. Still laughing and pointing, but now C is taking pictures of this mess on her phone. Thank God she had her camera out, because now bartender girl is taking my shirt off…and sticking her hands in some very inappropriate places. I’ve had enough, so I stand up. She asks me how I liked the massage and I tell her it was just fucking fabulous. She didn’t seem to notice the sarcasm.

As more time passes, I seem to be getting a bit drunker. I finally sneak away from the girl and beg my friends not to let me go home with her. They’re a great bunch. Really.

And after more conversation with her, I find out she has a nine year old kid and she is currently dating a magician. Although the relationship just recently ended. A magician? Are you serious? She’s very serious. And now she wants to know if I’ll give her a ride home. The moral dilemma kicks in. Do I really want to sleep with some drunk ass chick with a kid, who most recently dated a magician? Am I getting too mature for foolish one night stands, because I’d rather be in a relationship? And I’m still kicking myself for screwing up the last one. All of this is racing through my mind when I finally decide what I’m going to do.

And now, the only question that remains is, did I take her home, or did I let her take a cab?

Well, I don’t think that’s any of your damn business!