Jesus, what a let down. I'd met her about two days ago. I was having lunch with a buddy of mine in midtown. We were having our usual after lunch drinks and by the third martini a stunning blonde walked in with a friend. They sat a few seats away at the bar.
"Shit, she's looking at you," said Itai. "Say something."
I glanced down the bar and sure enough this little blonde number with an adorable face framed with a cute little bob smiled at me. Itai, always the pal, did the right thing and started things off by falling on the grenade. He occupied the friend with casual banter making the object of my attention available for me to chat with. Two martinis later I had a phone number and a day after that a date scheduled.
My adulation lasted about twenty-four hours. We went for dinner and she couldn't have been more of a bore. The thing that intrigued me about her most was the fact that she was the only person I've ever met that thinks of office management as a worthwhile career choice. Oh well, I guess I was in for the long haul. Hopefully I could just get out of this with a quick drink and curt "See ya when I see ya."
The cab ride to 5th street consisted mainly of her expressing her distaste for my CD collection. Considering my tastes range from Weezer to Prokofiev I found this a bit disturbing. By the time we got to the bar I found myself wishing she had forgotten her ID so I could just walk her home and be done with it. But having no such luck we moved past the bouncer and got some seats at the bar.
The benefit of going to the same bar more than twice is that a good bartender begins to get an idea of how strong you need your drink mixed when he sees you. This was a good bartender and a very large Smirnoff martini was prepared for me soon after I sat down. My "date" ordered, of all things, a Midori sour and began to tell me all about what it takes to organize an office of twenty or so clerical workers. When she ordered another my hopes of a quick demise for this mortally wounded affair were dashed. The best thing about the situation was that my date apparently left her party bladder at home and needed to excuse herself to the bathroom halfway through her second drink.
I was giving serious thought to paying the tab and ditching to Itai's place when I heard over my shoulder "I give you credit."
I turned to see a reason to stay. She was about a head shorter than me with a smile that cut through the pall of cigarette smoke like a laser. Her thick, straight black hair was pulled back loosely into a ponytail. The way her calf length red dress draped off her shoulders added to the air of calm comfort about her. "I'd never be able to sit through that shit."
I chuckled. It was the first time I'd smiled in the last four hours with succubus in the bathroom. She looked to her right end then winked at me before taking a seat a few stools away at the bar. My date had emerged from the women's room and was heading back my way.
My night was looking much brighter. I kept pumping sugary drinks down my date's throat encouraging her frequent trips to the can. The more she drank the more often she excused herself and the more opportunities I had to continue the wildly engrossing conversation I was having with the radiant woman four feet to my right. Topics ranged from music to movies to books to drug culture, everything. Punctuation came in the form of a sloppy drunk blonde culture sink as she staggered back and forth between the women's room and the stool on my left. Two bathroom trips in she introduced herself as Millie.
During my date's fifth trip to the bathroom I looked at Miss Right and suggested we find another watering hole. "What, and just leave the poor thing here to fend for herself?" she asked with a grin. "How is she going to get home in that state? Is chivalry dead?" She had a point. Besides, it was way too much fun continuing to get to know her in this intermittent fashion. Something about having to be slick about it had so much appeal.
My date returned and ordered another Midori sour. Half way through it she looked a little unsteady and excused herself to the ladies room yet again. Millie watched her go. "She doesn't look like she holds her booze too well."
"I think you're right," I replied. "You think she's okay?"
