I hate bars. I always have. There's nothing for me there.
I'm in introvert by nature. There are a lot of introverts who love bars. They go in introverted, but a few drinks later, they're as friendly and obnoxious as they come. Not me. I don't drink. I go in sober and uncomfortable. The longer I'm there, the louder and dumber everyone else gets. I just stay the same.
All of this is to say that bars really aren't my thing. I wasn't here tonight because I wanted to be. I was obligated to be here.
My coworker Tim was getting married next weekend, and I was one of the groomsmen. Which was weird. I was friendly enough with Tim that I should have been seated in the aisles, but definitely not close enough that I should have been standing up there with him on his big day. He'd moved to the area about 5 years prior and didn't have any family here. He had lots of friends, but I guess he just wasn't super close to any of them if I ranked in his top 3.
There were eight of us here with the party. There weren't enough chairs for everyone, so I sat against the wall nursing my water while my drunk co-workers took turns singing karaoke. I tried talking with the guys, but the music was so loud there really wasn't much of a point.
There was one nice thing about bars though. The women. Usually at the very least there would be handful of hot women out on the dance floor or hanging out with some friends. I try not to be too obvious about it or anything, but if I'm going to be stuck hanging out with a bunch of drunk dudes all night, at least I can try to entertain myself with a
little
ogling.
This place was shit though. No one above a 6 in sight. This one little troll of a woman kept going up to sing over and over and over again. Metallica. Rob Zombie. Slipknot. Any excuse to scream into the mic and bash her head around. The night wasn't getting better.
Then I spotted her across the room. Black hair. Pail skin. About 5'7''. She wore a pair of skinny jeans that left nothing to the imagination, and a tight black shirt with just the right amount of mid drift. She had a small frame, not an ounce of fat on her, and tits that looked like they should have belonged on someone twice her size. They had to be fake. Bodies shouldn't grow that disproportionate. That's how you get chronic back problems.
She was stunning. She also looked like kind of a whore. I hate fake tits. They never look right naked, and what does it say about a girl who gets them? She was willing to spend a shit-ton of money to have guys objectify her and not take her seriously? Any girl whose willing to spend that kind of money to disfigure themselves wasn't exactly girlfriend material. Judgmental, I know. I just don't like fake boobs. That said, I wasn't planning on dating her. I was just checking her out.
I watched her from across the room for several minutes, ignoring the noise of my friends and the shitty music coming over the speakers. I was thinking how much I'd like to touch the exposed area above her jeans, run my hands up her hips, under her t-shirt, when she looked in my direction. I immediately looked away, averting my eyes in a way I hoped wasn't too obvious.
The place was getting busier. The dance floor was full, and the bar was starting to fill up around me. Tim yelled something about Game of Thrones to the group, and a co-worker of mine responded with something that didn't look like "Huh?!", so apparently he could hear him better than I could. I just kind of smiled and tried not to lose track of my mystery girl. Didn't work. She had walked over to get a drink and disappeared into a sea of people.
About five minutes went by before she showed up again. The place was pretty crowded and it was getting harder to find a spot. Guess the large crowd was working to my advantage. I was standing there, sipping some water, when her and two friends stepped right up next to me.
The two friends were alright. Nothing special. The three of them were laughing amongst themselves and watching a guy do a halfway decent Maroon 5. My mystery girl seemed to be a bit drunker than the other two and was the only one in a dancing mood. She started dancing by herself almost immediately. Being as it was right in front of me, I finally had something to keep me entertained. She wasn't a great dancer or anything, but she really didn't need to be. She was giving me a pretty show as she swung her hips, then she'd reach down to the floor and pop back up. Was a pretty great sight, and she had an amazing ass. After about a minute of that she backed herself up, and started doing the same thing, but right up on me.
Now I'm married. I'm married, and I'm at a bar with a bunch of guys who know I'm married. They know my wife. Most of them have wives. We're not there to hook up. It's not the type of bachelor party where we go to a strip club, poor decisions are made, and we make a pact to keep each other's secrets. It's the type of bachelor party where every ten minutes or so someone is stepping outside to check in with his wife, maybe say goodnight to the kids, and then come back and talk about how mad the ending of Lost made him. I really couldn't start dirty dancing with this chick. I just let her do her thing.
I couldn't tell if she was just drunk and oblivious, or if she was trying to get me to dance with her. If she was trying to dance with me, how lucky was I? The bar was full of drunk guys trying to hook up with chicks. I was the wallflower, sitting there with a cup of water, and the hottest chick in the bar was shaking her ass on me. I played it cool. Tried to act like I didn't notice. She was just drunk and having a good time. I was just going to give her the benefit of the doubt that she didn't notice me there and just kept accidentally hitting me with her ass or her back. Smooth.
After another minute of dancing the song ended, and she stepped away from me a bit to talk with one of her friends. The host called a name and another drunk dude stepped up to the mic with a shit-eating grin. I was still staring at her, my erection in complete control of my eyes, when her other friend stepped closer to talk to me.
"Hey, do you blah blah blah blah blah?" I assume she asked.
"What's that?" I yelled over the noise of the crowd.
"Do you see that girl over there?" I followed her finger to a girl slumped over in a chair and a group of onlookers trying to wake her up.
"Oh yea. Looks like she's had one too many." I said.
"Yea, they've been trying to get her up for a few minutes, but no response. I hear they've called an ambulance." The girl said. She was blonde. Attractive. Attractive-ish anyways. She was talking to me for some reason, and she was friends with the hottie, so that was something.
"That's no good. Hope she's okay." Seemed like the right thing to say.
"Yea, she's been making a fool of herself all night. Now she's just completely blacked out." She said, laughing. One of the guys trying to wake the girl up lifted one of her arms. Sure enough, it flopped right back down. "So how ya doing?" She asked.
"Pretty good. You?" The music started again, and there wasn't any point trying to talk any more. She answered with something, and I nodded and smiled, but it was lost to me. I took a drink of my water and watched the guy make a fool of himself up there.
About twenty seconds went by and the hot black-haired girl was right up on my again. This time there wasn't any real hiding her intentions. She was definitely trying to get my attention. Now I could've stepped back, or I could've joined in. I did neither. I just pretended I didn't notice and kept watching the "singer" and sipping water from a straw. You know. Keeping it cool.
I didn't feel terribly cool though. I'd gotten a pretty good erection going at that point, and really wanted nothing more than to just grab her by the hips and grind on her ass as she danced up on me. Instead I waited patiently for the song to end. It did, and the girl acted like she just noticed me then.
"Oh, sorry." She said, smiling, as though she'd just backed into me by mistake.