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One night in a bar that I hate, searching for something that will elude me if keep looking in places like this...


Submitted:Nov 25, 2012    Reads: 8    Comments: 0    Likes: 0   


No I don't want to talk to you.

Why would I?

What do you have to tell me that would interest me in the least? They very fact that you are in this shithole bar in the middle of Vancouver Washington, tells me that, anything you could say about your life leading up to this point would be less than interesting.

But she catches my eyes again and smiles. Twining her fingers in her hair, she laughs and looks away, stealing a glance out of the corner of her eye to see if I'm watching.

I look away and go back to controlling the sneer that is attempting to contort my face as I stare out at the dance floor and watch the people move with no rhythm. I don't care who your are, you can't make dancing look cool, unless it is choreographed. Guys, girls, dancing in a club makes you look fucking retarded.

I take a swallow from my beer and notice she is headed my way.

Christ.

I mentally roll my eyes and rehearse the conversation that is inevitable.

She asks about where I'm from, What I'm doing up here.

I complain about the weather, and she tells me it gets better. I don't believe her.

She tells me why she is living here instead of anywhere else in the world. I still don't care.

She mentions what she did yesterday and why she is here tonight.

I ask politely about what she does for a living. She tells me and I promptly forget.

She say something about shopping, fishing, her mom, vehicles etc. I respond with a comparision to how my wife feels about the same thing.

Her eyes don't light up anymore and she begins to look for an end to the conversation. I help her by standing and saying I have to go to the bathroom. She rises with me, shakes my hand and say's it is nice to meet me.

I walk out of the bar and use the restroom. She doesn't look at me for the rest of the night.

I am happy with that.

I hate bars. Why am I here again?

Oh yeah, my single buddies want me to hang out with them for the first 30 minutes of the night before they abandon me and spend there energies in attempts at conversation that nine times out of ten is completely meaningless and has been said over and over again the same night.

Every once in a while they need me to be there so when they get back from the dance floor they can holler my name and high five me, so the drunken chick they are trying to impress will know that they are a fun loving guys-guy.

I can do that for them.

But don't introduce me to someone that has no apparent interest in me and is probably nowhere near attractive enough to catch my eye. Or even be seen talking to.

Why?

Because when they look down their nose at me because I am better looking than they will ever be, in an inane attempt to make me feel small and to make themselves feel better about their small shitty little lives by ignoring the hottest guy in the bar.

It makes me want to slap them out of their chair.

I have no interest in this unattractive badly proportioned woman, the introduction is being forced on me and honestly she should be jumping at the chance to even meet my eyes.

But no, she shakes my hand and gives her friend an obvious look of disdain at having to meet me.

I stand up, bum a smoke from my buddy and walk outside.

The girl that has been the center of all my friends attention is outside smoking. They have been watching her all night talking about how hot she is and drooling over her contortions on the dance floor.

Why I don't know, but I introduce myself to her and her friend.

The conversation starts.

She asks about where I'm from, What I'm doing up here.

I complain about the weather, and she tells me it gets better. I don't believe her.

She tells me why she is living here instead of anywhere else in the world. I don't care.

She mentions what she did yesterday and why she is here tonight.

I ask politely about what she does for a living. She tells me and I promptly forget

Her friend goes inside but she decides to stay outside and smoke one more cigarette. She has taken two drags when the conversation turns to fishing an I mention that my wife has better luck than me.

She stubs out her unfinished smoke and says she needs to find her friend.

As the door closes behind her I smile to myself. Why am I here again?

The door opens and the other hottest girl in the bar steps out with her boyfriend I assume. Still smoking I remain with my back to them until they mention concerts. I turn and start a conversation about where good bands play. Addressing myself to the boyfriend so as not to piss him off the conversations flows smoothly over to her as music taste enters the conversation.

She asks about where I'm from, What I'm doing up here.

I complain about the weather, and she tells me it gets better. I don't believe her.

She tells me why she is living here instead of anywhere else in the world. I still don't care.

She mentions what she did yesterday and why she is here tonight.

I ask politely about what she does for a living. She tells me and I promptly forget

Her boyfriend stubs out his cigarette. She pulls her pack from her purse and lights another one. He goes back inside and I marvel as she continues the conversation moving closer as I borrow her lighter to light another cigarette of my own.

She mentions Nine inch nails and I drop the comment that my wife's band sounds similar.

The cigarette is still rolling across the parking lot as the door closes behind her.

I exhale smoke from my nostrils and shake my head.

God I hate this place.

I walk back inside. My drunken friends sway in time to irritating songs and I walk back to the table.

An obvious change of heart has taken the badly proportioned woman and she turns as I sit down and bends to look out onto the dance floor. Her cleavage takes up the entire left side of my vision field as she worries aloud about her friend who she hasn't seen in a few minutes.

I turn and point out her conspicuous position in the middle of the dance floor where my inebriated friends have formed a circle.

Her obvious relief makes her breasts sway dangerously close to my face.

As she resumes her seat which just happens to have moved several feet closer to mine, the conversations starts.

She asks about where I'm from, What I'm doing up here.

I complain about the weather, and she tells me it gets better. I don't believe her.

She-

I stand up and walk out. I can't take it anymore and I leave her in mid sentence telling me why she moved here.

One more night of loneliness down the drain.





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