As the cab pulled up outside the Cat and Tail I felt the urge to tell the driver to take me back home, the place perspired seediness. The blacked out windows and dimly lit doorway made this place somewhat uninviting.
Here I was 30 years old on my first date since my messy divorce, every single butterfly had been let loose inside my stomach. Not only was this my first date in five years, it was organised by a girlfriend of mine through one of those single agencies. Oh sure, I had seen his picture, and was aware of his likes and dislikes, and though he wasn't that good looking, my friend, had convinced me that I should learn to crawl before I walked again.
I gathered my thoughts paid the cab driver, and took a deep breath before heading into the bar.
My hesitation was not only resting on this being my first date in a long time, it was also unnerving having to travel half way across the other side of town, to a destination that had now become apparent, to be a hang out for desperate wharfies.
As I pushed the door open, my fear became my reality. I knew straight away that the little black cocktail dress, with the plunging neckline I was wearing was not the usual attire seen in this bar. I looked around trying to recognise my date amongst the dim lights and cigarette smoke, to my disappointment, I could not see him.
I looked for a discreet place to sit and with every table and chair occupied, I had to settle for a seat at the bar, I slipped onto the bar stool and ordered a drink from the only other female in the place, a woman dressed in a tight fitting green leather mini skirt, and skimpy vest which struggled to hold the largest breasts I had ever seen.