I stare at my empty wine glass, blinking back tears, and the bartender comes over to the end of the bar and raises an eyebrow at me.
"Another, please."
He pours me more Merlot and leaves me to sit there, brooding at being dumped by my boyfriend, Charley. OK, my EX-boyfriend. I'm still numb over that "ex-" tacked on the front -- it doesn't seem real yet, though the wine is helping. A man who looks way too much like Charley for comfort enters the uncrowded hotel bar, lightly populated on this Tuesday night. He glances over at me, takes a few steps in my direction, then sees what must be a hostile look on my face and veers off, apparently concluding the same thing the bartender did an hour ago -- best to give me some space tonight.
I feel bad about taking it out on the poor guy, not his fault, but I SO don't want to be around anyone tonight who looks remotely like my ex.
I sip my wine in silence.
I hear steps behind me, then a tall man with rugged good looks and green eyes leans against the railing near me and takes a swig of microbrew beer. "Bad night?"
He's cute, and looks nothing at all like Charley, so I nod in assent.
"Want to talk about it?"
I look at him. His forehead is crinkled with concern and he seems like a decent sort. Ah, might as well tell someone, let it all out. "Broke up with my boyfriend tonight."
He takes another swig and nods, and then waits for me to go on, not pushing, clearly sensing my mood.
I sip the wine, feel the comforting glow as it goes down my throat. "Said he's in love with the person who USED to be my best friend, been sleeping with her for a month now, but can we pleeease be friends? As if."
"Men," he says in a high, fake-feminine voice. "They're SUCH pigs." His eyes twinkle at me.
I stare into his eyes, wondering if he's being mean and mocking me, but I see only concern in his wide open pupils. He's just trying to cheer me up, I conclude, nothing malicious.
I think I like him.
***
Twenty minutes later, I've told my new friend, Steve, the whole story, with him mostly listening and let me talk. I sip the last of my glass of wine. "Thanks. Appreciate having you listen to all this rubbish."
"No problem," Steve says. He looks down at his beer for a long moment, like he's mulling over whether to say what's on his mind or keep quiet, then his eyes stare into mine. "Look, I hope you don't take this the wrong way, but it sounds like you need some rebound sex tonight."
Damn. I thought he was interested in me. All he wants is my body. I shoot him a dirty look. "And I suppose, out of the generosity of your heart, you're willing to sacrifice and do me this great favor."
"No, I was referring to one of the other fine gentlemen here." Steve sweeps his hand at all the scruffy-looking men in the bar. "Like that guy in his eighties over there. LATE eighties. Or the stud at the other end of the bar who's been winking at you -- now that's one styling polyester leisure suit, or at least I'm sure it was when he bought it back in the seventies. And you must be turned on by the redneck in the John Deere cap, wearing what must be one of the cleaner T-shirts in his wardrobe. I mean, what woman isn't hot for a guy wearing a shirt with a picture of an elk on it? Oh, and check out --"
I laugh. "OK, let's stipulate for the sake of argument that you're the best looking man in this godforsaken bar. Have I said ANYTHING that would indicate that I'm some sort of tramp who jumps into bed right after breaking up with my boyfriend?"
He gives me an oddly intense look with those green eyes, then in a husky voice says, "No, I think you're a sweet, beautiful, charming woman. I didn't mean to offend you." He tentatively touches my forearm. "I just thought you didn't want to be alone tonight. Can you please forgive me for my rudeness?"