A Perfect Ending

There I was at the bar, not feeling very comfortable or very relaxed, but getting closer and closer to that point with every sip of my drink. There was only one thing I hated about coming to this bar with my friends... they usually ended up going off somewhere to "talk" with this guy or that guy.

So there I sat, in my black miniskirt and my black blouse, with my black stilletto heels, and my black stockings with the garter belt (but, of course, no one could see that). I had gotten dressed with the idea of looking good but not too flashy, and apparently I did it too well, because not one person had even tried to talk to me.

On a normal day, that wouldn't bother me. I'd go and talk to them. I'd just find someone who looked like they might be interesting to talk to and introduce myself. But I'd had such a bad day that I was feeling a little sorry for myself and therefore felt almost like I couldn't just go out and meet people.

The more I drank, the less sorry for myself I felt. I'm not the kind of person to get drunk in public, but the drink was much needed at that point. I started to relax, and I began to wonder what was going on with Elvia and Tanya. One thing was certain: they must have been having a good time, or else they would have been back by now. I might not even see them for the rest of the night. Good thing I'd taken my own car....

I began to feel the muscles in my neck and back relax, and my stress headache began to ease. I could breathe better and the pain behind my eyes began to go away. I was beginning to feel so much better.

I looked around the room and saw things in a much different light. I began to realize that it wasn't so much that people were ignoring me, it was just a slow night. There weren't that many people, and the people that were there were mostly clustered in small, intimate groups and not paying much attention to anyone else. It wasn't the kind of scene you'd usually expect to see at a bar.

Out of the corner of my eye, I saw something that caught my attention. There was a table with three men, and one of them was staring at me. He was trying to keep it hidden, but not doing a very good job for someone like me. He was talking to his friends, participating in the conversation, but his eyes were pointed towards me. My spirits finally started to lift....

I decided to play along. I crossed my legs, suddenly feeling very desirable. I tossed my hair off of my shoulder and began to play with my necklace. Hmmm. Maybe this day wouldn't suck after all....

I sipped my drink slowly, casting casual glances toward the door, pretending to look for my friends, but really doing it so I could sneak a peek at the man who seemed to find something about me just so interesting.

Henry, the bartender, came to replace my drink. "So," he said, a sneaky smile on his face, "where did your friends go?"

I had to laugh. My friends and I came to this bar often, so he knew all about them. He knew them quite well. "They did their usual, Henry," I said, handing him my empty glass. "I swear, they're both worse than teenagers."

"Yeah," Henry said. "At least a teenager would have enough sense not to take those psychos home."

I laughed, remembering one man that Tanya had met who, after she didn't return his phone calls, showed up at her house in the middle of a thunderstorm and waited for her in the pouring rain for six hours.

"So," Henry said after placing my new drink on the bar, "how are you doing?"

I gave him a disgusted laugh. "Do you really want to know?"

He chuckled. "That bad, huh?"

"Yeah," I said, taking a sip of my drink.

"Well, then, tell me about it," he said. "If you want to, that is."

"I've been having on of those 'Murphy's Law' kind of days," I said. "I don't think anything else could have gone wrong today. Knock on wood." I rapped my knuckles on the bar.

"So what happened?"

"Well, first I accidentally knocked my alarm clock off the table in my sleep, and it came unplugged. Which means I overslept. So I rushed to get ready for work, and my last pair of nylons ripped as I was putting them on. Then I go out to my car and find I have a flat tire. And no spare."

"Oh, boy," Henry said, rolling his eyes. "A perfect start to the day."

"You got it. So I had to call work and tell them I was going to be late - which they weren't pleased about, as you can well imagine. And then I had to call a tow truck to come fix my tire so that I could get to work at all.

"So I get my tire fixed and I'm on my way to work, and what happens? And accident. Four cars in front of me. So I had to sit there until the police came to move the cars out of the way.

Then I get to work and, of course, being late, I have to park all the way in the back of the parking lot, which means it took me 10 minutes to get from my car to my office. I get into my office, and my boss gives me the dirtiest look I've ever seen, which made me feel even worse than I already did. I go to my computer and try to retrieve the files for the presentation I was working on yesterday, and they're not there. I don't know where they went, but they're not on the computer anymore. So I had to redo the whole thing. It had taken me days to compile all the information I'd had on there, so basically I was working from scratch.

"So I work hard all morning, skipping my break. Today of all days, I really needed a break. Lunch time comes around, and I'm starving, because I skipped breakfast - I didn't even have the time to grab a piece of fruit or anything this morning. So I decide to go get something to eat in the cafeteria. Oh, but guess what? I don't have any cash. So this means that I have to go to the bank and get some money out to get something to eat.

"So the rest of the day goes - maybe not smoothly, but it goes. Then, just before I'm about to leave, I get a call from the bank. My loan has been denied. This is the fifth bank I've been to, trying to get a loan so that I can buy the kids and I a house. That apartment is just getting too small.

"So, needless to say, I was really depressed on the way home, on the verge of tears the whole time. Then, about halfway home, I run out of gas. It was then, and only then, that I realized that I'd told myself yesterday that I was going to stop for gas on the way to work this morning, but with all the shit that happened, I'd forgotten. But here's the worst part: I didn't have my ATM card.

"I had to call Elvia and have her go to my house and get my ATM card and bring it to me so that I could put some gas in my car. It was then that she suggested that we all go out tonight, seeing as we were all stressed.

"And not to make light of their problems, but right now I feel like they couldn't possible be as stressed as I was. It's getting better. The longer I sit here, the more relaxed I feel, and the more I feel like a normal human being and not some slave. I know that's not fair to my boss, especially since he is a very nice guy, one of the easiest to work with that I've ever met, but today everything sucked."

"You know what?" Henry asked, an absolutely dumbfounded look on his face.

"No, what?" I asked, taking a deep breath.

"The rest of the drinks are on me. You deserve them."

"Thank you, Henry," I said, smiling for the first time that day. "I really appreciate that."

I noticed that Henry wasn't looking at me. "Henry?"

"I think..."

"Henry, why are you whispering?"

"I think your luck is about to change, sweetheart." He ever so slightly leaned his head in the other direction.

I, casually as I could, turned and looked in the direction that Henry was indicating. It was the man who had been staring at me before I stepped into my pity-pot. He looked as if he were saying goodbye to his friends, but he wasn't heading for the door. He was heading in my direction.

I turned and looked at Henry, wide-eyed. "You don't think he's coming over here, do you?" I asked, softly as I could.

"Well, he was staring at you the whole time you were talking to me."

"He was!? Why didn't you tell me?"

Henry just grinned at me.

"You sneaky old man, you."

"You know it," he said, and walked away before I could protest.

I looked at my drink, not sure what to do. I didn't want to make a fool of myself and do something stupid, especially if he wasn't really coming to me. But it was hard not to look. Kind of like a car accident on the side of the road - you don't want to look, but you just can't help yourself.

I sat there, my heart pounding so hard I could hear it. I felt my blood racing through my veins, and I could feel my face getting hotter with every passing second. The more nervous I got, the harder it was to breathe. I yelled at myself in my head: Stop it! You don't even know that he noticed you. He might have been staring at someone behind you. The world does not revolve around you, you know!

Just as my breathing began to get back to normal, I felt a light hand on my shoulder. I jumped a little, not expecting it. I took a deep breath and turned around as normally as possible. "Yes?"

He looked at my hands, which still clenched the glass. "Well, I was going to ask you if I could buy you a drink, but I see that you already have one."

I laughed, a very nervous laugh. "Yeah, asking me something like that would be kind of pointless."

"May I keep you company?" he asked, and I could see in his face that he'd leave me alone if I told him to. The problem was, I wasn't sure what I wanted.

"Sure," I said, taking a chance. "Go right ahead."

He sat on the stool next to me. "What's your name, may I ask?"

"Suzi. And yours?"

"Chris. I couldn't help but notice that you seem to be on very good terms with the bartender. Do you come here often?"

I started to answer, but he slapped himself in the forehead, grimacing. "What?" I asked.

"That just sounded like the oldest pick-up line in the book."

"Not quite. Close, yes, but not in the same context. You didn't just say, 'So, baby, come here often?' You had a logical reason to ask that question. And the answer is yes, I do. My friends and I come in here about once a week, on average. Sometimes more, sometimes less."

"You were looking kind of down when you were talking to him. Anything wrong?"

"No, not anymore. I've just had a really bad day and desperately need to relax."

"Do you want to talk about it?"

"Thank you, but no. I think talking about it once is good enough. I got it out and now it's done. I don't even want to think about it anymore."

"Okay, I was just wondering."

"Like I said, thank you for asking, but...." I smiled at him, as best as I could.

"So what do you do?" he asked, obviously fishing for something to talk about. I have to admit, it was a bit flattering, knowing that he wanted to talk to me bad enough to begin a conversation with such an inane topic.

"I work in an advertising agency. I'm not an executive or anything, but I do draw up proposals and sometimes even create the ads. Not many, but I've done a few."

"Do you like it?"

"Yeah, most of the time. I got into it as a fluke."

"What do you mean?"

"My mother saw this ad in the paper for 'artistic people,' and she called me up and told me I should answer it. I was unemployed at the time. So I figured, 'what the hell?' You know? I figured if nothing else, I could keep looking for a different job, but at least this way I'd be able to pay my bills. Well, it turns out that I like it very much. It just gets very stressful sometimes. Those are the times that I wonder why I ever took the job. But I do get to use my creative side, and that is why my mother suggested I answer the ad in the first place. So what do you do?"

"I design computer software. Not as artistic as your job, but I think it's also a creative one."

"I think that kind of job is kind of on the border. You do need to be creative to think of some of the things that they put out there, but you also have to know all the technical aspects of computers and computer language, etc. It's definitely not a profession for dimwits."

"Do you want to know the one thing I hate?" he asked.

"What?"

"When I tell people what I do, and they basically tell me that I don't look like a 'nerd.'"

I couldn't help but laugh. "Well, you know how society is. They get this one image of something, and, wrong or right, they cling to it. I think all those "Revenge Of The Nerds" movies kind of added to the nerd stereotype about computers. You know, that only nerds really know anything about them."

"Exactly. It's like they expect me to be wearing big coke bottle glasses, high-water pants, a pocket protector, and to be saying "Heee, heee" all the time."

I couldn't help but laugh at his imitation of the lead role in the Revenge of the Nerds movies. "I learned the hard way not to cling to stereotypes of people. So I usually try not to assume anything until I have the facts. And sometimes... the stereotype fits." I couldn't help but laugh.

"Yeah, you're right," he said, laughing right along with me. "I just hate it when people are suprised that a normal, healthy, somewhat young american man could be a computer software designer."

"I can kind of relate. People are suprised when they learn some things about me. But, then again, sometimes that's the fun part." I just couldn't help grinning at him.

"True. Hey, listen - these stools aren't the most comfortable. Would you like to go sit at a table or a booth so that we can talk?"

I hesitated for a second. But only a second. "Sure. Just let me tell Henry something really quick."

"Okay."

I got up and went to the other end of the bar and pulled Henry aside. "We're going to go sit down at a table and talk. If Elvia and Tanya come back and don't see me, would you let them know where I am?"

"Sure. So how's it going?" He lifted his eyebrows at me.

"Not bad... so far. We'll see. At least he's not like your usual barfly."

"See? I told you your luck was changing."

"Yeah, well, we don't know that... yet."

~*~*~*~*~*~*~

Chris found a seat in the back, in a dark corner, where we could see everything but not everybody could see us. I did notice, however, that there was a terrific escape route if I felt I should need one. We sat down, and I was a little nervous, so I kept looking around, down at my hands, playing with my rings, anything to keep from looking at him. He just sat there patiently, smiling at me, and I felt my heart began to pound even more, but not from nervousness this time.

We talked for about an hour before we both realized that not only were our drinks empty (and we were thirsty), but the bar was starting to fill up more, although not near us. There were a bunch of people clustered up near the bar itself, and around the tables surrounding it. It was like we were in our own little world where we could just sit there and watch everybody else. It was kind of nice. I found that I had totally and completely relaxed, and I’d forgotten all about the escape route. I even found myself flirting back at him, trapping him with my eyes, playing with my necklace in order to draw his attention to somewhere… else.

“Would you like another drink?” he asked me, getting up.

“Actually, I would, thank you,” I said, smiling.

“What were you drinking again?”

“I never told you in the first place.”

“Oh, yeah, that’s right….”

“Whiskey sour, please.”

“Oh, so you like the hard stuff, huh?”

“Well, I don’t like the taste of beer, and wine just doesn’t do it for me most of the time. Besides, you can’t even taste the whiskey.”

“That’s true. Well, I’ll be right back, okay?”

“I’ll be right here. I’m not going anywhere.”

“You better not be,” he said with a smile on his face and eyes like a fox.

I waited for him to get lost in the crowd up by the bar and I took the chance to check myself in my little purse mirror. “Damn!”, I thought. “I wish I’d known all my makeup had worn off. And look at this hair!! God, I need some conditioner. Oh, well. Too late now.”

I had just closed the mirror into the purse when he came back with our drinks. I breathed a small sigh of relief that he hadn’t caught me. I didn’t want to seem too shallow, but when a woman meets a new man that she’s attracted to, she can’t help but wonder if she looks okay or not, and the only way to know is to check it out. But to do it in front of him would be too obvious.

“So, did you miss me?” he asked, that sly smile on his face again.

“Oh, yeah. I didn’t know if I’d be able to live without you.”

“Gee, you sound so convincing,” he said with a laugh.

“Sorry,” I said, laughing along with him. “I tend to be a smartass sometimes. Just ignore me and I’ll stop. I think….”

That comment made him laugh even more. “I like a woman who can be herself. So tell me… is there anything else besides you’re a smartass that I should know?”

“Well, I guess that I have two kids.”

“That doesn’t bother me. At least you didn’t bring them to the bar with you.”

“No, I don’t want to be like my parents, thank you very much.”

“Bad childhood, huh?”

“The worst.”

“Well, let’s not talk about that. I don’t want to get depressed. I’m having too good a time with you.”

I smiled. I just couldn’t help it. “Thank you,” I said softly.

He reached out and touched my cheek with his finger. “Don’t thank me. I’m telling you the truth.”

The moment our skin touched, I felt fireworks go off in my head. I knew I was attracted to him, and what woman wouldn’t be? I mean, he wasn’t a Greek God or anything, but he was cute. Very cute. But there was just something about the way he touched me, like… like I knew that making love to him would make those fireworks go off somewhere besides my head. But of course, how would I know that? And yet….

“Let me ask you a question,” he said, bringing me back to Earth. “What kind of qualities do you look for in a man?”

“Actually, I don’t.”

“What do you mean, you don’t?”

“I don’t have a selected list of certain things that a man has to have or do or say in order to be with me. I take everyone, male and female, as individuals, with strengths and weaknessess, so I really can’t answer that question. There is one thing I stay away from, though.”

“And what would that be?”

“I stay away from any and all addictions.”

“Hmmm. Even sex?”

I immediately blushed and looked at the table. “Um, well, I’ve never actually met a man that’s been addicted to sex.”

“Would you like to?”

I looked up at him suddenly, my eyes as big as saucers. “What do you mean?”

“I’ve been told that I seem to be addicted to sex.”

“And why would anyone say that about you?”

“Because I like to have it every night and even in strange and interesting places.”

“Well, there’s nothing wrong with that.” I blushed at my own boldness, at my being able to speak so frankly with a man I’d only just met.

“I certainly don’t think so,” he said, taking my hand in his. “So tell me… what kind of men do you like? I mean, short, tall, skinny, big, dark hair, light hair, any ancestral preferences?”

“I like all kinds of men. I have to admit, I tend to be more attracted to the tall big ones, but I’m openminded. As far as ‘race’ is concerned, I could care less. Although I will admit that I’ve never gone out with any man that hasn’t been either white or black. I ‘haven’t tasted the rest of the menu,’ I guess you could say.”

“Well, does that bother you?”

“No. The way I figure it, if the opportunity arises, fine. If not, fine. Either way, it’s not going to kill me.”