This blog is pushing me to do things I would never do. Like tonight, I got all dressed up, and went to a martini bar… alone. I wanted to check out the scene, and not knowing anyone in this town, I had no choice but to venture out on my own.
I sat down at the bar and immediately ordered a cranberry juice, in a tall glass, on the rocks with a lime.. explaining to the bartender that I wanted to look like I fit in with the drinkers, even if I don’t drink. He was cute and I’d already put a ten down in that way that he knew I didn’t want change, so I knew I’d made a fast friend. I spent the next twenty minutes like a piece of live bait, underwater, hooked on a line with no where to go… waiting.
And then the first bite… My friend the bartender came over to me and pointed to a guy in a tight blue button down, with slicked back hair, and I’m guessing a store bought tan, but couldn’t be sure, then informed me that the guy wanted to buy me a drink. I told my new buddy to give me a tap water on the rocks with lemon and make it look like a Vodka. He asked if I wanted a bottled water and I told him, no, that I don’t believe a man should have to spend his hard earned money on a woman who’s not interested. I also told him to tell the guy the drink was on him, to assure he’d get a tip.
My “fake Vodka” arrived, and I raised my glass to the guy in thanks. He was by my side in under 60 seconds.
Before I go on, I have to give this guy a fake name. We will refer to him as Rico, because he so badly wanted to be ‘suavey’ and was probably rich because his clothes looked expensive, his watch was VERY expensive, and his attitude was way above average in comparison to his way below average looks. Yes, he had a muscular frame that hinted that perhaps he was from the Jersey Shore (and the accent to match), and yes, he had all of his hair, which clearly would crunch to the touch with all of the product he put in it. He was tall, and dark.. aka too tanned, with really white teeth, kind of like when Matt Damon went a little too crazy on the teeth bleach. But his features, where average, if not a little below, so I figured the only reason this guy had the confidence of George Clooney, was because he was rich, because he certainly didn’t have the charm of George Clooney (and I speak from experience).
So Rico says to me, “Rico. What’s your name?” No ‘hi, I’m Rico’… just ‘Rico.’ I told him my name. Then he wanted to know what a beautiful woman like me was doing in a bar alone. I suspect he was hoping I’d say, “Obviously I’m here to pick up a guy for sex, why else would I come to a bar alone.” But instead, I said that I was here doing research because I’m a writer. He asked what I write about and instead of answering him, I said, “Rico, if you knew that you could have a half hour of witty banter with an intelligent woman, but there was no chance of you getting her number let alone more than that, would you continue talking to her?” Rico paused at this, I’d thrown him off of his game, but after a few seconds he recovered and said, “Of course,” to which I asked, “Because you want to see how witty she actually is, or because you think that you have the power to change her mind?” He laughed. “Seriously,” he asked, “What do you write?”
“Whatever I’m inspired to.”
“Have you been published?” he wanted to know.
“Are you famous?” he asked. A particularly idiotic question in my book. But, I imagine, that’s how all famous people like me feel, because if I wasn’t famous, I’d giggle nervously and say, “shucks, no.” But instead this jackass is asking me to admit that I’m famous, when clearly he doesn’t know who I am. So, I just said….
“In some circles.”
“So if I were to Google you-”
I cut him off. “If you were to google me you’d find at least 250,000 results, which is why I won’t tell you my last name.” So I stretched the number by a zero.. he deserved it!
“Have you ever been on television?”
“I have been on television both nationally and internationally (which is true, but you’d laugh if I told you why, and I sure as heck was not going to tell him). But more importantly Rico, because I don’t want your night to be wasted, what do you think of that blond chick over there?” She was right out of the Housewives of Orange County (even though we were no where near Orange County, I just wanted to give you a visual).
“Face-lift Barbie? Too plastic for me.” His face displayed concern for a second, “Not that there’s anything wrong with plastic surgery, if done tastefully.” I could swear he was looking at my cleavage at that moment.
“No worries, Rico, the only cosmetic work I’ve had, was braces when I was 14.”
“That’s not really cosmetic surgery,” he reassured me.
“In my case it was. If you ask any dentist who’s been in my mouth he’ll tell you it’s a textbook mouth. I even had an oral surgeon refuse to remove my wisdom teeth because they grew in so perfectly. I had braces because I had a gap between my front teeth that only Michael Strahan could pull off. So it was completely for vanity reasons.”
“You are entertaining,” he told me.
“Thank you. And now it’s only fair, that I cut your line, and send you back out to sea, because some woman out there is waiting to reel you in.”
“I still think you should give me your number in case I need a writer, for business purposes.”
“Rico, if that’s your subtle way of getting me to ask you what you do, I’m not going to, because it doesn’t matter to me. I’m going to thank you for my drink, and turn around now.”
And I did, and my friend the bartender was grinning from ear to ear. “That was fascinating,” he declared. I winked at him as another patron summoned him at the other end of the bar. He was back over to me within seconds, “Dare I tell you that guy wants to buy you a drink?”
This particular guy was just my type, young, hot, and most likely stupid. I knew better than to go down that road. “Don’t you dare.” I warned him, “I don’t have it in me.” And with that I put my bag over my shoulder and left.