At what point do you look at yourself and just say ‘WHAT am I doing?’ I ask this question as I ponder my weekend. It went a little something like this:
I got to choose the bar for Friday night, and being a glutton for punishment I chose our old standby – this place. Why? Well, why the fuck not? I was in a mood, was clearly looking for trouble, and at the time (Friday) couldn’t remember why I had to avoid one of my favorite places just because I had once slept with the bartender…and pissed off his girlfriend (who was not his girlfriend at the time!).
Anyway back to the story. So I recently realized (like, say, after Friday night) that I’ve become what is commonly referred to as a ‘lightweight.’ In other words, I was pretty well hammered after 2 (strong – I’m not making excuses but they WERE strong) drinks. FYI, this lightweight thing is inconvenient when you’re whole plan is to go out and drink all night. (Please feel free to mock me since I clearly deserve it.) It did however make it A LOT easier to do something stupid that I’d regret later. Cheaper too.
So there I was, quickly drunk at a bar filled with men who were conveniently also drinking, and WHO did I focus all of my attention on? A cute, single, nice guy perhaps? Nah, I don’t work that way. I sidled right up to the bar and started shamelessly flirting with The Bartender (I will say I was smart enough to make sure his girlfriend was nowhere in sight first), and at some point we hit on the great idea to get together the next night and ‘catch up.’
At that point you could say – well, Redhead obviously came to her senses the next morning and cancelled. Unfortunately you’d be wrong. I blame this on 3 things, 1) I’m not that smart, 2) his Irish accent (I really do love it), and 3) I would have felt guilty cancelling. You see, after we made our plans The Bartender went to some trouble to find someone to cover for him the next night (bartenders do tend to have to work on Saturdays after all). How could I have backed out once I sobered up knowing he’d given up a night of work (and tips) for me?
Still, loyalty only goes so far – I may have kept the date for Saturday night, but that didn’t stop me from flirting with EVERY guy at the bar on Friday night after making that date. Christine said I was in fine form (but for everyone out there who thinks I’m a whore, I would like to point out that I went home alone…yes, I’m a paragon).
The date with The Bartender on Saturday went fine by the way – we really do get along well. Now that doesn’t mean I trust him any farther than I can throw him (which is not at all), but if we could somehow come up with a way to just be friends…well, I think that would be nice. It will never happen, but it would be nice. (Oh, and I’m pretty sure he and his girlfriend are no longer together – I think. Okay fine, I didn’t really ask, but he did imply…ah fuck it, I’m just digging the hole deeper right now, aren’t I?)
But the best part of the whole weekend was Sunday! Because who should call me after my Moronic Extravaganza? Yup, that would be The Missing Dickhead Who Dumped Me! I blame the fact that he woke me from a nap for why I answered the phone at all. Anyway I’m kind of glad I did, because if I hadn’t I would have missed out on one of the more bizarre conversations ever, and that would have been too bad. Some highlights:
-He has a daughter. A 6 year old daughter. That was news to me.
-He only got divorced from the girl’s mother about 6 months ago. That was also news to me.
-His life is ‘complicated’ right now. (No fucking shit!)
-He’s sorry he didn’t tell me.
-He’s like us to be friends, but he’s not ready for a relationship right now.
Well, weekend’s over – back to work! Anyone else have a story to tell? Did any of you get arrested?