Another Saturday night with no plans and though I hadn't felt much like going out of late, I'd be dipped if I were going to spend another one rattling around the house trying to figure out what to do with myself. No, I'm not going to watch some mindless TV or try to read something in which I had no interest, killing time only to face another night of restless sleep.
I've been a recluse long enough. Marcy, a.k.a. Senora Neurotic, had put my mind through a blender. I should have realized long ago when she'd stormed from the apartment screaming "I hate you!" Only to return a minute late to castigate me, "If you really loved me, you would have come after me!" Plus, I should have known better than to fall for the theatrics, but it would be several acts later that I concluded it was time to close the production.
It hadn't really been broken my heart, just left it calloused. But those had softened, so maybe it was time to rejoin society.
Slowly. Just stick a toe in the water.
But where to go? Certainly not some night club/meat market. Never cared for them anyway. Some place kind of quiet, where I wouldn't be out of place if all I wanted to do was sit at a bar and nurse a beer or two.
Nick's. That would be prefect. Not really a sportsbar, although there were several TV's in the place, normally tuned some sort of sporting event, it was hardly the main attraction. Just a neighborhood watering hole. No blaring music, just honest cocktails. And conversation, if that's what you wanted.
Given the chilly February evening, it shouldn't be too crowded either, so a seat at the comfortably familiar oval mahogany bar should be assured.
With that much decided, a shower and a shave were definitely in order. The homeless look probably wasn't mainstream fashion just yet. Not that I'd paid attention, but it seemed a safe bet.
So about forty five minutes later, I was socially presentable and comfortably seated at Nick's enjoying a frosty mug of brew, deciding if I wanted to watch basketball or hockey. I'd never been much for hoops, so I settled on the Bruins taking on the Habs, even though the game wasn't quite the same now that everyone wore helmets and had all of their teeth.
The puck didn't really hold much interest and I found myself checking out the crowd at the bar. Mostly small groups of guys, discussing, sometimes heatedly, the merits of some overpaid athlete; a few couples totally oblivious to the debates surrounding them. But what's this?
She
doesn't belong here.
At the opposite corner of the bar sat an attractive blonde, a bit overdressed for the setting, but pretty. Soft curves. Nice tits.
Knock it off, you're staring.
Good, she hadn't noticed. Too busy being chatted up by a couple of guys who obviously found her more interesting than any sporting event. I couldn't help but watch. I'd seen the drama countless times before. She'd flirt and lead them on. They'd buy her a drink or two. But in the end, they'd all go home. Alone. Time squandered. Pity . She looked like she could be fun, both physically and mentally. Oh well, not my concern. Time for another beer.
But first a smoke. Thanks to the state legislature and their constant concern for our well being, that meant stepping outside. So with a mildly exasperated sigh, I slipped on my coat.
No sooner was I standing on the sidewalk, taking a deep drag and sliding the lighter back in my pocket, when the door opened behind me.
"Could I have a light?" asked a woman's voice, "Please?"
Without much thought, I fished the lighter from my pocket, turned, and thumbed the flint wheel.
It was the blonde I'd been eyeing earlier. Hesitating slightly, I brought the flame to her smoke. I suppose I held the lighter on longer than necessary, but found myself lingering on the light dancing in her soft brown eyes.
"Thank you," she said with a quick exhalation of smoke, signaling it was time to extinguish the light.
"You're welcome," I replied.
"I've never seen you here before. My name's Marianne," she said, extending her hand.
I shook it lightly, "I'm George. Been a while since I've dropped in."
"You've been away?'
"No, just keeping a low profile, and I finally felt like getting out."
"So why have you been hiding?"
"Nothing personal, but to avoid women like you," I replied, not really sure why I'd be spoiling for a fight.
"But we've just met!"
"You and me, yes, but I've met plenty like you."
"And what is that?"
"You're unfair," I accused, "dishonest even."
"And what the hell is that supposed to mean?"
"Sorry, Marianne, I should have kept my mouth shut."
"It's too late for that. Now you've got to tell me."
"Okay, you asked for it. But you're sitting in there, flirting with those guys and leading them on with no intention of truly getting to know them or for them to know you. They'll buy you a drink or two, but in the end you'll know nothing about them and whether you really liked them or not."
"So?"
"So it's all a waste of time. Totally superficial. You haven't a clue if like them or not. The man of your dreams could have been right in front of you, and you'd never know it."
"And what makes you think that's what I'm looking for?"
"I'm not saying you are, but you're not giving it a chance. How often do you think that might happen in a lifetime?"
"Beats me."
"Exactly. But look, I've finished my cig, so why don't we go back inside. I'll buy you a drink and we can go our separate ways. You'll get what you want and it'll save me the trouble of having to make mindless small talk."
"Cut the shit!" she snapped and I froze clutching the door handle. "You've got a hell of a lot of nerve to pass judgment on me. Like you said, you know nothing about me."
"Sorry. There's obviously more to you than meets the eye. Tell you what….Lemme buy you that drink, and have a real conversation. I think we're past the small talk."
Thank god, she smiled.
"Way past the small talk. Those other two guys are boring. I'll ditch 'em and you can buy me that drink."
I held the door open for her, recaptured my seat and watched her do likewise.
I ordered another beer and wondered how Marianne would extricate herself from her suitors. Although I couldn't hear the entire conversation, their disappointment was obvious. As soon as she offered to buy them a round, they knew that opportunity had found another door. She seemed to handle their protestations gracefully, and although I did not catch what had transpired, the guys gave understanding nods and then looked my way.
After a momentary panic attacked, I realized that somehow Marianne had used my presence as a means to excuse herself without getting them totally pissed off.
Brava, signora!
With a glass of white wine in hand, she headed towards me with a triumphant smile on her face. I'm sure a bewildered one appeared on mine, but before I could grasp the situation, she sat next to me.
"It's been such a long time since I've seen you, George" she said a bit loudly, then leaned in to kiss my cheek, accompanied by a quickly whispered, "Pretend that you know me."
"Ummm, just fine I suppose," I replied.
Continuing in her quiet tone, "Play along, stupid. I just told those guys you were someone I hadn't seen in a long, long time." Adding with a conspiratorial smile, "I just didn't tell them it had been since birth."
