M. goes out for a cocktail
As predicted, last night was a late night at work. As I am finally driving home, a buddy calls, wanting to know if I'll join him for a drinkie at O-Bar. Although I would have been perfectly happy to crawl into bed, I think to myself "well, one drink won't hurt" and we make plans to meet there at 10.
I leave my house at 10, figuring that we'd get there at about the same time. Twenty steps later, my friend calls. "I'll be about five or ten minutes late, so walk slow." I could go back to the house and wait a bit, since the idea of waiting at the bar by myself isn't appealing. But I take his advice and continue my now leisurely stroll.
Sure enough, I beat him there. And the place is packed. I don't know a soul.
I don't think I have ever gone into a bar completely on my own. I'll meet friends there, or arrive there with friends, or even do a quick walk-through on my way to or from another bar to see if I know anyone there. But I've never simply walked into a bar, solo, with the intention of staying there and seeing what happens. I know that people do it all the time, and I certainly don't think of them as losers, but that's totally how I would feel. Like there's a scarlet L on my chest.
I am not afraid of crowds. I'm not afraid of being by myself. I am a sociable, easygoing guy who enjoys meeting new people. And even though I'm meeting my friend there any minute now, I feel completely alone. Worse, I feel like a total dork. Is this what being single feels like? I fucking hate it.
Standing out, literally, at the edge of the crowd is a very handsome blond man, about 6' 4" and muscular, talking to another hottie. My self esteem goes spinning down the drain. I look around, and the place seems to be populated predominantly by tall, handsome men. All of them friendly, all of them chatting and flirting with each other. And there I am, on the outside. Would a normal person be as intimidated as I am? A less friendly-looking crowd would be easier to manage, somehow. I just feel left out.
I make my way to the far corner of the bar, which seems like the fastest way to get a drink. Standing in a crowded bar, alone, is not something that I want to contemplate without a drink. Cocktail in hand, I move back again through the crowds toward the door so that I could see my friend arrive. It's so crowded that once I find a small vacant pocket of space, I figure I'd better stop and wait there. Again, I'm surrounded by the happy, handsome crowd.
An hour seems to pass, but I'm sure it's only a minute or less before I see my friend arrive. And it turns out that I happened to have stopped next to several friends of his, who I'm quickly introduced to.
And everything seems to change. I'm happy to see my friend, who I haven't seen in a while. His buddies are extremely friendly and fun to chat with. Two people I know come in and join our group. More people I know happen by, bunches of them, and by now I know 15 people in the crowd. A handsome trio of guys are standing near me, two of them blond, and one of them seems to be making appreciative eye contact with me.
All of a sudden, I realize that I'm having a terrific time.
The superhero images projected on the walls lead, of course, to discussions about my Halloween costume. I can't help casting my eyes around and comparing myself unfavorably to the well-built men of West Hollywood. "Who am I kidding," I ask myself. But I've talked to enough people about it that I can't back down now.
I'm done with my one drink, which I've been nursing all this time, and by now it's about 11:15. I'm determined to be responsible and head home. And I'm also trying to figure out whether and how to introduce myself somehow to the tall, smiling blond man near me who I've been exchanging glances with. But time is runing out; I need to go home. The same thing happened to me several weeks ago at East West, and I kicked myself for not having the guts to follow through.
Tonight, sadly, will be a repeat. I say goodbye to my friend and move toward the door. Five steps later, I run into another friend who I haven't seen in ages. I stop to chat, periodically glancing back to see if Tall Flirty Blond Man is still there.
Nope. He's gone. I blew it again.
Still, it was good to get out. Easy come, easy go. There will be other blonds.
Weight: 174
Damn it. I guess 180 by Halloween was unreasonable.
I leave my house at 10, figuring that we'd get there at about the same time. Twenty steps later, my friend calls. "I'll be about five or ten minutes late, so walk slow." I could go back to the house and wait a bit, since the idea of waiting at the bar by myself isn't appealing. But I take his advice and continue my now leisurely stroll.
Sure enough, I beat him there. And the place is packed. I don't know a soul.
I don't think I have ever gone into a bar completely on my own. I'll meet friends there, or arrive there with friends, or even do a quick walk-through on my way to or from another bar to see if I know anyone there. But I've never simply walked into a bar, solo, with the intention of staying there and seeing what happens. I know that people do it all the time, and I certainly don't think of them as losers, but that's totally how I would feel. Like there's a scarlet L on my chest.
I am not afraid of crowds. I'm not afraid of being by myself. I am a sociable, easygoing guy who enjoys meeting new people. And even though I'm meeting my friend there any minute now, I feel completely alone. Worse, I feel like a total dork. Is this what being single feels like? I fucking hate it.
Standing out, literally, at the edge of the crowd is a very handsome blond man, about 6' 4" and muscular, talking to another hottie. My self esteem goes spinning down the drain. I look around, and the place seems to be populated predominantly by tall, handsome men. All of them friendly, all of them chatting and flirting with each other. And there I am, on the outside. Would a normal person be as intimidated as I am? A less friendly-looking crowd would be easier to manage, somehow. I just feel left out.
I make my way to the far corner of the bar, which seems like the fastest way to get a drink. Standing in a crowded bar, alone, is not something that I want to contemplate without a drink. Cocktail in hand, I move back again through the crowds toward the door so that I could see my friend arrive. It's so crowded that once I find a small vacant pocket of space, I figure I'd better stop and wait there. Again, I'm surrounded by the happy, handsome crowd.
An hour seems to pass, but I'm sure it's only a minute or less before I see my friend arrive. And it turns out that I happened to have stopped next to several friends of his, who I'm quickly introduced to.
And everything seems to change. I'm happy to see my friend, who I haven't seen in a while. His buddies are extremely friendly and fun to chat with. Two people I know come in and join our group. More people I know happen by, bunches of them, and by now I know 15 people in the crowd. A handsome trio of guys are standing near me, two of them blond, and one of them seems to be making appreciative eye contact with me.
All of a sudden, I realize that I'm having a terrific time.
The superhero images projected on the walls lead, of course, to discussions about my Halloween costume. I can't help casting my eyes around and comparing myself unfavorably to the well-built men of West Hollywood. "Who am I kidding," I ask myself. But I've talked to enough people about it that I can't back down now.
I'm done with my one drink, which I've been nursing all this time, and by now it's about 11:15. I'm determined to be responsible and head home. And I'm also trying to figure out whether and how to introduce myself somehow to the tall, smiling blond man near me who I've been exchanging glances with. But time is runing out; I need to go home. The same thing happened to me several weeks ago at East West, and I kicked myself for not having the guts to follow through.
Tonight, sadly, will be a repeat. I say goodbye to my friend and move toward the door. Five steps later, I run into another friend who I haven't seen in ages. I stop to chat, periodically glancing back to see if Tall Flirty Blond Man is still there.
Nope. He's gone. I blew it again.
Still, it was good to get out. Easy come, easy go. There will be other blonds.
Weight: 174
Damn it. I guess 180 by Halloween was unreasonable.
posted by M. at 10:53 AM
2 Comments:
"I look around, and the place seems to be populated predominantly by tall, handsome men. All of them friendly, all of them chatting and flirting with each other. And there I am, on the outside."
Honey, I know you have mirrors because your hair is always perfect. So I also hope you should know you're tall and handsome, too! You're never on the outside.
I wasn't there, but I can say with absolute certainly that you were one of those gorgeous men. But even better, you were probably one of the few that night that are just as gorgeous on the inside as well.
And that makes all the difference.
I agree with Jeff. I've seen the pre-Photoshop pics, and you're quite the handsome devil.
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