Something Just Lie This

Author's note: For my awesome followers that enjoy reading my new stories, the following story is not the typical story I write. This is a Valentine's Day

romance

story. It does not contain any of the kinks that my stories normally have.

"Happy Valentine's," I reply to the bartender as she said it to me when putting down my Diet Coke and Bacardi drink. I try to smile at her after saying this, but as she caught me off guard in saying it, I know my smile looks more like I have a toothache.

The young bartender doesn't seem to notice as she walks off to help someone else, allowing me to pull my drink close to me as I sit at the bar. I'm sure she said the greeting in hopes of a higher tip as it is a young twenty-something giving a brief interaction to a single forty-two-year-old. But hey, she could be genuine.

This is a dive bar, plain and simple. A bar that people go to and drink instead of playing trivia, singing or whatever else. The owners have tried to shred the dive bar vibe by throwing money at it, but nothing can remove the vibe it was born with.

I take a sip of my drink, tasting the familiar taste of my signature drink. I know I happen to be the only guy drinking a mixed drink as everyone else has a beer, but that's normal. For whatever reason the universe has, I'll always stand out somehow. At the moment I stand out not just because of my drink but because I'm not a country sort of fellow like most of the people here.

Scanning the bar, I see that it is made up of who you would expect tonight; couples. Loads of couples, hanging off each other, drinking and trying to have a good time. I even spot a few that are arguing, but that doesn't mean they aren't having a good time. Lots of people think fighting is how you show love.

Off in a corner I spot a couple that don't seem to be able to wait until they get home for their love making. While they think the pool table is hiding them, a woman leans back in a chair looking very blissful as her man stands over her, lifts her shirt and happily (and sloppily) sucks on her breasts.

Like I said, this place isn't able to dust off the dive bar vibe it was born with. I'm sure later, once everyone gets liquored up, there'll be a fight, and probably a few "meetings" in the bathrooms.

I take in a deep breath and let out a silent sigh as I sit at the bar, not wanting to draw attention to myself. On purpose I blend in with the furniture, not wanting people to notice I'm here alone. Otherwise it would be too easy to become the single creepy pervert looking at all the couples. The guy you walk around because you are scared he'll try to talk to you.

When I stopped here to get a drink, I didn't know it was Valentine's Day. I just wanted a drink. A drink to make the day more bearable. Well, that's a lie. I did know it was Valentine's, as it had been thrust in my face all day long but I hadn't considered it when I stopped. I thought it would be like the dozens of other times I've stopped after work.

A part of me wants to down my drink to get the hell out of here. And on the way out I'll tell the guy sucking the tit that he's sucking a boob, not attacking a monster as he's gotten so aggressive that it doesn't look pleasurable for the woman.

But something inside of me doesn't let me leave. I'm not sure why either. Maybe that hopeful part of me thinks I'll meet someone tonight, which is laughable. I am old enough to know how I am and know that wouldn't happen.

Some people are born friendly and approachable. They light up a room and people love to talk with them. That's not me. I'm shy and quiet around strangers. I really wish I wasn't, but that is how I am. I wouldn't say I'm socially awkward but I can be. Striking up conversations with strangers isn't something I'm good at, rather they be male or female.

Also, this may mark me as an asshole, but I doubt I would get along with any of the women in here. Again, I'm not country, which most appear to be. Most would call me a geek/nerd, which I admit that I am, proudly.

"You don't get it man, you just don't get it," a man across the bar says emotionally to his friend. He doesn't say this very loud but it still sticks out because the man is crying.

Catching my attention, I watch the scene while looking at my drink, not wanting to be obvious about spying. The crying man who looks to be in late twenties, is wearing a blue shirt with his name sewed in on the right side of his chest. From the look of him and his clothes, I would guess he works as a skilled laborer, like the person that puts tires on cars at Discount Tire or maybe a custodian.

"It's alright man, chill," the man's friend says, patting him on the back. From the look of his friend, he seems embarrassed that his friend is crying. He keeps glancing around as if his friend's crying is chasing away all the women.

"She's going to leave me, man. She's going to fucking leave me," the man declares, fighting to hold back his tears. There's no doubt he really believes this. And it's hard not to feel for the guy as by the way he cries he doesn't do it often.

Sipping my drink I think of my girlfriend, rather my last girlfriend. We broke up about four weeks ago. Or to say correctly, she broke up with me. Broke up with me in a rather cruel and fucked up way if I am being honest.

Our relationship was always sort of strange. Even the way it started it was strange. I had just gotten divorce and she came out of the woodwork wanting to be "my friend." She wanted to go out almost immediately, but I knew it was a bad idea as I was dealing with a lot thanks to the damn divorce. So I asked her out with the condition it would be in three months to give me time to work on myself.

We ended up going out for three years, but it was never a solid relationship. I never felt comfortable openly hugging her or flirting. And it wasn't just me being awkward or anything. Any time I hugged her or went to kiss her, she always flinched. The only time she didn't was when he had sex, which she wanted a lot of, not that I minded at first.

Being with her felt almost like a business relationship or maybe a friends with benefits sort of situation. Most of the time we were together it was me fixing stuff at her house, or paying for whatever she wanted to do/needed. But I did enjoy being friends with her. Being able to talk about my day and things that bothered me. Plus she had a bright little girl that had so much energy for life. I loved spending time with both of them, especially helping her daughter with her homework.

One day out of the blue she stopped texting me. I would text her and if she replied it would be a single word response like "OK," letting me know something was wrong. When I probed, she sent a single, very long text stating that she didn't connect to me and we are breaking up, but that she still wanted to be friends.

That was the last time I heard from her. I sent her a reply, saying that if I was being honest I agreed we didn't really connect to each other, but if she wanted to work on it, maybe go to therapy, I would be open. I told her I would like to stay friends as I value her a great deal. But she didn't respond. Never responded. Three years and that was the ending I got.

I know I deserved better than that, just like I know I deserve better than her. With the power of hindsight I see she is very selfish and only wanted to discuss things that were about her. Can't even say how many times I complained about something, where she would cut in with, "You don't know what problems are, you know what I had to do at work?" Thus making whatever issue I was having seem trivial because someone at her work said something that could be taken as a possible insult.

Granted, I know the broken relationship was partly my fault. I'm not Mister Perfect or anything, but I do try. I always listened, as well as helped her whenever I could, fixing her house, paying bills, etc. Not to mention giving her gifts to let her know she was cared for.

"She's coming here and will see I didn't get her anything. That I didn't do anything," the crying man tells his friend. If I could read the name on his shirt I would call him his name, so in my mind he's going to be "the crying man," even if he is no longer crying.

I figure the guy must have forgot it was Valentine's today, and his wife isn't going to be happy about it. I say his "wife" because of the ring he wears. Then again, if he is talking about a girlfriend, then I think the wife has a right to be upset since he's married.

"Dude, just go out and get her something?" His friend suggests, saying the exact thing I was thinking. It's not really that late and there's tons of stores. Hell a lot of people have set up their trucks on the side of the road with teddy bears, chocolates and whatever.

"Because she would just get even more upset if I got her some cheap, token Valentine's gift," the crying man retorts, sounding a bit upset that his friend isn't understanding.

"She told me at Christmas that she would like something thoughtful and heartfelt as her next gift. She was hurt because of what I got her for Christmas," the crying man explains.

"What you get her for Christmas?" The man's friend asks and I almost salute my beer to him as I wanted to ask the same question.

"A six pack of PBR and a Rhea Ripley T-shirt," the crying man reveals, a bit too proudly.

His friend and I have the same reaction, which is to cringe a little. I have no idea who his wife is or what she may like, but unless she is the definition of white trash, I doubt that would go over as a good Christmas gift.

"She drinks that beer, so I thought she would like it. And when we watch wrestling, she makes sure to always watch Rhea," the crying man says passionately, defending his choice of gifts.

"It's not like I make a lot of money. And I really thought she would like it," the crying man says right after, taking a good, long sip of his beer to settle him.

"I meant to get her something for Valentine's, I really did," the crying man says. He says this more to himself than anyone else, like he's pissed at himself.

"Ten years of marriage, in the toilet," the man grunts, putting his face in his hands. Looking around, I do find it odd no one else cares about this, but it is Valentine's. Any other day people would be flocking to find out what is happening, but not today. Not when love and booze is in the air.

Curious, I turn to see how the pool table couple are doing. I'm not surprised to see that the guy has moved on from working the top half of his girlfriend to working the bottom half. His hand is now jammed down the front of her jeans. Not wanting to see any more, I turn but from what I do see it looks painful as he really has to jam his hand down those tight jeans.

"Ten years? Damn, has it been that long already?" the crying man's friend remarks.

Hearing him say that sends a twinge of pain over me. I was married for ten years too, well, almost. If we would have hung on for a couple more months, it would have been ten years. But she couldn't hang on. Even if we had been together as a couple for fifteen years.

My heart darkens as I think of my ex-wife. The one I thought I would be with forever. The one that left me. The one that cheated on me. But, it's over now and though I've gotten over it for the most part, that sadness will always linger. It's a scar that smarts whenever you touch it.

Taking a deep sip of my drink, I try to push down the feelings from my marriage. It's been over now, what, five years? No point in thinking of it. Even if most of those years were awesome. Man, I remember being so happy, especially coming home to her.

She slipped away from me. I tried to hold on, but it was pointless. The beginning of the end was when she joined some would-be MMA club. I encouraged her to do so as I hold two martial arts black belts. I thought it would be cool to spar once she got some experience as every time I tried to teach her martial arts she couldn't remember any moves.

One night of class became two, and before long she was going nearly every night and forgetting about me. When I finally did check out that school, I found it was a joke. It was a McDojo, there to be glorified babysitters to kids after school, and let women get out their aggression on training dummies. There was no real lesson plan or thought to what they were teaching. Just whatever the would-be teacher thought up that day and even then the classes were glorified sessions for him to say how great he was.

She didn't want to hear it when I criticized the place. Said I was jealous because the teacher was a true professional and everyone that goes there were great guys. To this day I have no idea why she thought that as the teacher was true white trash. A drunk, owing money, missing several teeth, not to mention spent time in jail from everything from fighting to missing child support on his ten kids. That guy was a professional?

It didn't do my self-esteem much good when she left me for him. The "classes" she went to were actually for her to cheat. Not that I knew at the time. Like an idiot I tried to save the marriage, but with couples counseling and having daily talks, she ran off with him.

She too said she wanted to remain friends when I signed the divorce papers. Said I was the kindest and sweetest person she had ever known. And if it wasn't for me, she would have never grown as a person.

At least with her, I somewhat get updates thanks to the mail that still comes to my house. Seems she learned to be white trash as well. On purpose she doesn't change her home address, so all the bills, bill collector letters, court summons and more come to my place even after five years apart.

Sometimes I wonder if she left me because I was better than she wanted to be. Her friends told horrible stories that she found hilarious, such as going around their neighborhood with a pellet gun, shooting elderly people taking out their trash at night. Or when they talked about a black or Hispanic person they would refer to them as "the colored person." Whenever I brought up these points or more, she would get so pissed at me. Saying that I couldn't take a joke and was being weird. That I didn't understand.

"Why didn't you get her something then?" The friend asks the crying man, knocking me out of my own thoughts.

Listening in again, I will admit that is a question I was wondering as well. I mean, if the guy has been coming here after work instead of working on getting his wife something, then he deserves to have his wife mad at him. It's been a lot of time since Christmas. And the money he spent here could have been spent on a gift.

"It's that fucking program at work, man. I just can't get it. I stay after almost everyday trying to learn it. Watching those stupid learning videos and shit. Even got other coworkers to try and train me. It's just, I don't get it. I don't get how it works. I keep fucking it up," the man explains passionately.

Again I feel for the guy because I can tell he is being honest. As if I was an empath or something, I can feel his anger and frustration. Frustration at really trying and still not able to figure it out.

"Why do I even need to learn that dumb-ass fucking program? I work as a fucking custodian. I don't need to learn a fucking app to empty a god-damn recycling bin," the man states, his frustration boiling over. To this, I nod, understanding his frustration.

"Yeah, that sucks, man. What they got you trying to learn?" His friend inquires.

If I could, I would lean in to hear better as the bar is getting rather noisy now. More and more people are showing up, which I hate. Plus I find this to be more interesting than any other time I've come here.

"I don't fucking know. Some app that tracks what doors are locked and what the temperature is in rooms and crap. How to turn the lights off and the air on," the crying man tries to explains, showing he really doesn't know the purpose of whatever program.

"You know me, man. I was never good at any of that shit. I barely know how to work my cell phone, man. It's why I had to stop working as a mechanic because cars started getting fancy computers and crap. Fixing shit was more about fixing computers than replacing parts," the man explains, upset.

In his anger he downs the rest of his beer. I'm not sure about this, but I think some of his frustration is that he's in his twenties and looks like he should be computer literate. But hey, some things don't come easy for some people. Just the way the universe is.

For some reason he makes me think of my ex-wife. She was the type that said she always wanted to learn new things, but really didn't. She would sign up for tons of things but never follow through. The issue was, I would follow through. Like when we signed up to learn the violin. I became good enough to move to the intermediate class while the teacher said she needed to stay in the beginner's class. But what did she expect? She never practiced, even when I offered to practice together. Because I did practice when she watched TV, I got better and she hated me for it.

You know the thing I miss most about my ex-wife? It isn't the sex, as our sex life sucked especially towards the same. Same with my ex-girlfriend. Both started off fun enough but then became a chore.

You see...having earned an arts degree in college, I had a "liberal" sort of college experience. I made many really good friends that I was close with since we had been through so much. Friends that were not burdened by societal norms, such as with sex.

We were safe in what we did, but we did experiment...a lot. From threesomes to BDSM and even some public stuff, we did a lot. It was fun as we were open to trying things. In a way it was strange as no one was "dating" anyone. We were just friends. When we hung out with someone, if both were cool with having sex or trying something, we just did it. Just a bunch of artsy people wanting to learn about life.

When I got together with my wife, I was honest about my past sex life. Actually, I am always open and honest about that part of me. For some reason my wife treated it as a competition or something. Like she had to prove she could do anything that I've tried and more, as if I cared. Same with my ex-girlfriend.

Both my ex-wife and ex-girlfriend said they were super-freaky, even if I said I didn't care. But both proclaimed they could match me in that area. That whatever I wanted to try they would do and do it better. Granted, most of this happened in drunken rants.

I've learned that when someone has to repeatedly boast about how kinky they are, it means they aren't. Such as with my ex-wife. I still remember the evening that we were laying in bed and fooling around. She then declared she wanted me to "lose control" and fuck her as hard as I could. I hadn't even started trying when she broke down sobbing.

You might think this is because I was being overly aggressive or hitting her, but no. As I mentioned, I hadn't even really started, except for trying to get into position. What caused her to cry is that I grabbed a handful of her hair. This proved far too much for her to take so she broke down sobbing and killed any arousal in that bedroom.

Sure, she apologized and said how she wasn't expecting me to do that. Just as I apologized too for not checking first. She said she wanted to try again and this time wouldn't cry. But I could see in her eyes that her heart wasn't into it. Or at least not into it with me.

The next time when we tried again, she just got mad when I kept asking if I was being too rough. Then when we tried to do some BDSM things, she would make up excuses why she wanted to stop. Such as she couldn't see my face, so she couldn't tell if I was enjoying myself. I tried to get her to talk to me, to be honest about what she wanted sexually, but she never was. I was always up front telling her that I never wanted to do anything she wasn't comfortable with.