Challenge #3
Roleplay challenge:
Pretend you are strangers, and pick each other up in a bar or coffee shop where it's plausible. Do this exercise in a place neither of you have ever been to so that no-one knows you are already a couple.
"How, and when, do you want to do this?" Gloria and I had been clients, then lab subjects for the semi-celebrity sex therapist Dr. Cheryl Coleman. We had a wonderful time fulfilling the first two of her weekly sex challenges, and had been looking forward to opening this one.
"How about on a weeknight, after work, we'll find a singles bar someplace?"
"That sounds fun. Do you know about the Blue Parrot?" Gloria had heard the suburban Jimmy Buffet-themed bar was a notorious pick-up joint on weekends.
"It's kind of far away -- and I want to get you drunk and horny."
"Far away is good. That fits the nobody-knows-you requirement. If we Uber back home, we can drink irresponsibly." Sensible Gloria would of course be responsible about planning irresponsibility.
"I can take the bus there from work to the park-and-ride at the mall, you drive but park where you can leave the car. Try to get there before five-thirty, so I can find you."
"I'll be sitting at the bar, if there's a spot."
That Friday neither of them were super focused at work. Gloria left early, went home, and changed. She had chosen her lightest, laciest strapless bra and the matching thong that had been part of an anniversary present to Dan. Unwrapping her from it had been the other part of the present.
Over that she wore her favorite LBD, a spaghetti-strap black dress that showed off her cleavage and clung, maybe a hair more tightly than when she'd bought it, to her hips and backside.
Checking herself out in the mirror, she saw that leaning forward and hunching her shoulders a little, as one might sitting at a bar, would let Dan see the edges of the lace and plenty of cleavage, but that she looked perfectly respectable when she stood up straight. Gloria declared herself hot enough to attract the attention of strange men. She used her favorite perfume, a pricey scent that Dan had given her for Christmas a few years ago. With fondness, she recalled the card he'd written to accompany it: "I got you something to wear to bed", with a winking smiley-face. And, she recalled, she had worn it to bed more than once, usually with nothing else.
Dan powered off his computer and got up from his cubicle desk. As he walked out, exchanging "Have a great weekend" and "You too" with co-workers, he was thinking, "If only they knew..."
The commuter bus dropped Dan at the mall park-and-ride lot at about quarter of six, and he spotted Gloria's car as he walked the few hundred yards to the Blue Parrot.
There were plenty of cars there already, but it wasn't as crammed as it would be later in the evening when the serious Friday night meat-market customers started piling in. This was mostly the "let's go for a drink after work" crowd, or the people coming in for a bite and a beer before going to the movies at the mall multiplex.
Dan entered the Blue Parrot, under the plastic imitation-thatch awning, and paused to adjust to the dimness. He spotted Gloria, with her back to him, perched at the bar with a signature blue margarita in front of her. He tempered his instinct to go and greet her immediately, instead sitting several spaces away around the curving bar to watch, out of eavesdropping range but close enough to hear if Gloria raised her voice. She was wearing that slinky black dress and heels, as if she was out to flirt around. A rather good-looking guy was trying to hit on her, and Gloria's body language was noncommittal.
~~~~~~~~~~
Gloria had parked in the mall's park-and-ride and sat in her car steeling herself. She had been partners with Dan for thirteen years, first dating, then sharing an apartment in college, and married for ten. She had never had to hunt for a man, but tonight she'd have to pretend she was. And bag Dan for a trophy. On the other hand, she knew she was still sexy at thirty-two. She would be the hunter, but it would be like one of those sea creatures that camouflages itself as a piece of debris or a kelp leaf, waiting for the prey to approach.
It was time to get in position. She found a fairly empty section of the bar, and parked her butt on a stool, making sure to give it a wiggle as she settled in. She knew there were several guys checking her out, and if she could bait one of them into buying her a drink, so much the better.
She ordered the house specialty Parrot Margarita, a blue curacao/tequila/crushed ice blend, served in a tall hurricane glass and garnished by a plastic mermaid impaling fresh pineapple chunks on her spear. It was a gimmick of the place that if anybody ordered a second one, they had to surrender their car keys to the bouncer.
No sooner had the bartender turned to bring it to her than a pretty handsome guy strode up and said, "That's on me, if you don't mind, barkeep." Gloria's first thought was that anyone who used the term "barkeep" had better have a British accent, or it was minus one on the asshole count. That irritated her her even more than the presumptuousness of speaking to the bartender before he'd even spoken to her, the inherent assumption that her opinion was irrelevant.
He swung and missed again when he tipped fifty cents, leaving a twenty for a tab of $19.50. It was a damn expensive drink, but Gloria was pretty sure someone would try to pick it up. She also thought she would be pissed with management for pricing the drink so that, with tax, it came to an amount that made shitty tips too easy. Still, it was very profitable for the bar. Gloria wondered what fraction of their sales were men buying for women. Probably at least a third.
Her benefactor sat next to her and ordered an expensive scotch, neat. Thirty dollars for a two-finger pour. Asshole was clearly showing off. Gloria took her revenge by leaving two twenties on the bar, telling the bartender, "Returning the favor", and turning away. A ten-dollar tip would put his cheapskate ways in sharp relief, and wind up being a decent 20% on the total.
As she turned, she spotted Dan halfway around the big oval bar, maybe ten seats away, and flicked past, pretending she didn't see him as any different from the other patrons.
"Um, usually when a guy buys a pretty girl a drink, it's a sign he'd like to talk with her."
"I'd heard of that. And thanks, but no thanks. Can I give you some tips so you'll have a better chance of impressing women?"
Realizing he was striking out, at least this lounge lizard had the grace to nod in acknowledgment. "I guess -- I mean, you bought me a drink too."
"Okay. First of all, don't buy someone a drink without asking her first. It was disrespectful that you spoke to the bartender before you spoke to me. Don't be a shitty tipper. You tipped the bartender fifty cents when five bucks would have made a lot of difference both to the bartender and to whoever you're trying to impress. Women notice how men treat other people. And unless you really do like the stuff, buying the most expensive scotch on offer isn't going to impress anybody who would order a Parrot Margarita. And finally, there are no girls in this joint, only women. The bouncer was pretty strict about checking IDs."
"Thanks. Too bad I made a bad first impression, and I actually ordered scotch because I hate it, so one glass lasts me all night."
