Last night, as planned, I forwent a night out on the regular strip of bars I frequent in favor of another part of town. Both areas are upscale neighborhoods that house clusters of restaurants, bars, stores, and what have you. They both draw handsome crowds consisting primarily of the 20- and 30-something yuppie type. Other than the fact that finding parking in last night’s neighborhood can be much more difficult than the area I usually frequent, there’s no huge difference between the two. It’s just that I’ve been partying in my normal area for years now and so it’s like home. It’s my “Cheers.” My comfort zone. A blessing and a curse, because while it suits me just fine most of the time, occasionally I find myself disenchanted with it. Bored. Craving something new.
The thing is, I go out alone 90% of the time. Part of the reason is that I don’t have the common 9-5 career, nor do the majority of the people I hang out with, who are friends I know from work and thus have the same hectic schedule. So coordinating outings amongst a myriad of random schedules can be a bit of a bitch. Even trying to coordinate with friends that do work normal 9-5s can be a bitch. Then besides that, I appreciate being able to do MY thing and not being subject to the fancies, whims, and idiosyncrasies of other people. I can go where I want to go, stay as long as I want, and leave when I want. I don’t have kids or a husband or any kind of real obligations in my life whatsoever at the moment besides work, and I enjoy being able to party accordingly. And I’m partial to my “Cheers” because it’s the familiar and I feel comfortable there alone. And 75% of the time I end up running into someone I know anyway.
But I wanted to explore some newer territory last night, so I ventured elsewhere. I’ve been there before, but not in a long while. My only immediate worry was the possibility of having to spend half a century looking for a parking space, but as luck would have it I scored a prime spot within moments. Lucky me!
Bar #1 was a bar I’d been to and had a decent time at in the past. I was at the bar enjoying my own company for a while before a completely-not-my-type guy ended up next to me and started trying to make conversation. No harm in conversation. It was benign enough anyway, as one of our first topics stemmed from him inquiring about what kind of earrings he should buy for his lady friend. He bought me a drink, but he never actually made a true pass at me or anything. It was just innocent conversation, which is refreshing. Well…up to the point when he asked me if I’d be interested in smoking weed with him, which elicited a resounding response in the negative. Fortunately I wasn’t interested in him at that point, because that most certainly would’ve been a turn off. I’m not fond of smoking in general – whether it be cigarettes, weed, crack, meth, etc. He bounced. I chilled there for a little while longer and then got bored and left for greener pastures.
While en route to bar #2, I ran across this guy who is a good friend of my buddy, Kip. I was out with Kip and other friends one night months and months ago when this friend showed up. I was completely, unequivocally hammered and so was he. We both had to crash in Kip’s living room and ended up making out extensively before we both passed out. I hadn’t seen or talked to him since. It took me a few moments to realize it was him when he greeted me as we passed each other. Which is just as well being as his greeting to me was “Hey, sweetheart,” so I doubt he even remembers my name anyway.
Anyway…arrived to bar #2. Had a drink and a shot. No hot guys. Didn’t get any play. Yawn-fest. Went back to bar #1.
I find it strange that I always feel like I get the least amount of play when I think I look my absolute hottest. So I’m either not as hot as I think I am, or I’m hot to the point where it’s intimidating. I’m not sure I really seem that approachable in general, but really it’s because I’m shy. Like, I know that if a cute guy looks at you, you’re supposed to maintain eye contact and smile or something, but I never do that because guys looking at me make me look away instead. It makes me feel self-conscious, I guess. But I suppose I give the impression sometimes, even with good looking guys, that I’m not approachable or that I’m standoffish or probably a complete, snobby bitch. Which I am, on occasion. But not always.
Anyway, it’s my second go-round at bar #1 and I’m drinking water watching wasted people dance, or attempt to. Had I been wasted, I might’ve been out there with them, but it just wasn’t in the cards last night. I was actually a good girl. At some point I ended up falling into conversation with a guy we’ll call Lawyer Guy (LG). I don’t know where LG came from – if he was standing nearby the whole time or if he zeroed in on me from across the room or what – but we started talking somehow. He was an out-of-town lawyer from the Midwest visiting for business purposes. I surmised that he’s some type of bleeding heart liberal who represents people who have been wronged by “The Man” or something. A pseudo ambulance chaser. Decent looking, but not exactly my type – too scrawny. He was my exact height at best (and I was wearing flats), if not slightly shorter, and thin. I like my men tall and brawny. At least solid, if not tall. He just seemed kind of squirrelly.
He had asked me to dance but I honestly just didn’t feel like it, so I declined. But he continued to hover and talk, which I was indifferent about, really. At one point this blond guy took notice of me, grabbed my hand, and literally pulled me right away from LG and towards himself so he could tell me how beautiful I am. He wasn’t bad looking, but it was obvious that he was completely wasted and that any form of productive conversation would’ve been impossible. Plus, although I wasn’t really interested in LG, I thought it would’ve been rude to ditch him like that since he had been in mid-conversation with me and pretty nice so far. So I politely retreated from blond guy and returned to LG.
But then once I’m back talking with him, it starts dawning more heavily on me how uninterested I am in him. I excuse myself to go to the restroom. And I really did have to go, but I was undecided in regards to whether or not I’d actually return back to LG or just leave. Probably about 80/20 in favor of leaving. But he was one step ahead of me. As I was almost to the restroom, I turn around and see that he’s right on my heels telling me he has to use the restroom too and that we can meet back up right outside of the restrooms. Darn. And of course I come back out and he’s standing right there waiting. This one’s determined.
We start walking back toward the bar and he grabs my hand and holds it. I allow that for less than 3 footsteps and then pull it away, ostensibly to grab my phone from my purse. Then he asks me what my name is again. Nice. I gave him a pass on that because he appeared to be rather intoxicated.
The night is waning down at this point. The lights are on, the music is off, and it’s almost that time for the bouncers to initiate the mass exodus. He asks me if I’d like to get a drink back at his hotel. I shouldn’t have, but I said yes. Sometimes I end up back at peoples’ homes because the bars are closing and I want more liquor, but not necessarily anything to do with the hosts themselves. This was one of those occasions. I felt like drinking more, but I was totally not interested in him. But I knew what he was REALLY asking me for, and I knew I’d have to deal with it eventually.
He tried this hand-holding business again as we were walking out. And again I had to shut that down quickly. I’m not sure if he was just drunk or if he was trying to mark his territory or what exactly the deal with that was, but it was annoying. I’m not your woman. He immediately went for a cab, but I informed him that I have a car and I was fine to drive and led him in that direction. He gave me the address to his hotel and I put it in my GPS and we set off.
On the way there I asked him if he remembered my name. He didn’t. I told him for the third time. I was amused at the dichotomy between him trying to hold my hand one moment and failing to remember my name the next. I spend most of the 10-minute drive trying to figure out exactly how I’m going to ditch this guy smoothly. I figure, based on the location of the hotel in a very parking-unfriendly area, that I could just drop him off in front, feign going to look for parking, and just never come back. But that was out when we pull up and he instructs me that I can just go to the valet.
Noticing the valet prices, and being cognizant of the fact that I don’t have any cash on me (which is the norm), I ask LG if he’d cover the valet. He agrees, and I make him give me $20.00 right then and there because I don’t know exactly how the night’s events are going to play out, but I do know that he’ll only wind up being disappointed when he realizes he’s not going to get in my pants. So it’s best to get the money up front before that happens so I’ll have it for the valet upon my departure.
As I’m leaving my car with the valet, I advise him that I’ll be out in less than an hour. He says he’ll just leave my car right out front then since it’s such a short amount of time. I realize after the fact that I might’ve seemed like a prostitute or something, coming in in the wee hours of the morning with a hotel guest and expressing my intentions to be there for less than an hour. If LG had in fact been Richard Gere from Pretty Woman, this might’ve gone a lot differently. But alas…
We get to his room and he asks me if I have to go to the bathroom. I do not. He says he does and goes into the bathroom. I seize that opportunity to quietly open the room door and make a hasty escape to the elevator, which thankfully opens immediately. I march to the valet to pay and get my keys. He says I wasn’t there that long, so I don’t owe anything, although I can tip if I want. I leave him the $20.00 that LG gave me, scurry quickly to my car which is right out front as promised, and drive off into the night.
Oh well, he got a ride back to his hotel at least.