I met him in a bar. Yes, I know, of all the places to try and meet a guy, the bar was not my first choice. One warning that is universal, 'never date a guy you meet in a bar'. Good advice that I usually found easy to follow, but then I saw him.
I went to California to visit an old friend and wanted to have a drink before I turned in for the night to my clean, simple and affordable hotel room. Anything was better than staying with Scott. Scott's great; funny, active, kind and a wonderful ally, but he's a slob, a true bachelor. Although I loved seeing him whenever I could, unfortunately it usually had to be somewhere outside of his apartment. I entertained the thought that maybe he would tidy up this time because he knew I was coming. Seriously? Who was I kidding? It hadn't happened in the 10 years I had known him so far, I couldn't really expect that things would be different this time. Besides I loved him because of who he was, not in spite of it.
I drove all the way from central Canada and it was about seven o'clock once I had settled and finished putting my stuff away. I wasn't planning on hooking up with Scott until the next day so I had the rest of the night to myself. I remembered passing a bar on the way to the hotel. I was glad it was just around the corner. No need to get the car out of parking and besides, it was a nice night. I knew I would enjoy the walk after the many hours it took me to get there.
I hesitated before going in; it looked busy. I'm a pretty shy, anti-social person when alone; a busy bar was not the kind of place I would have preferred to spend time, but I needed something stronger than a coffee in a dark and cozy coffee house. Then I remembered; 'Shit... playoffs'. It was bad enough I didn't watch hockey, but to be in a bar during playoffs? What was I thinking?
Oh well, I was already there, and it was better than a boring night in the hotel room. I walked in and headed straight for the bar. I tried not to look at anyone, but could feel them looking at me. I could feel the heat in my cheeks. I hated to be the centre of attention, let alone in the middle of a bar. Most women eat this shit up but I am so, not that girl. I was convinced they were judging me; a woman alone in a bar, they're probably thinking that I'm either a whore, here to meet a friend or just pathetic. I was banking on the meeting a friend thing. I just wanted a beer and then I'd leave. Easy cheesy right?
I was thankful for the TV screen in front of me even if it was hockey. During playoffs I would expect nothing less. I was actually getting in to the game when I started to sense someone watching me. The bar was getting louder as more people filtered in. I took a quick glance around and saw a bunch of different eyes on me but all very casual. I went back to nursing my beer, but couldn't shake the feeling of someone staring at me. I slowly turned and looked down one end of the bar. There were two groups of guys hanging out being loud. They were only two stools from me and although two of the guys had noticed me turn to look, none of them had any real interest in prolonging the exchange.
I wished this bar was like the ones in the old westerns. The kind that had mirrors behind all the liquor bottles so the good guy could see the bad guys minutes before it was all shot to hell. Unfortunately this was no western and there were no mirrors. So if I really wanted to see who was staring I was going to have to look around again. Like I made mention before, I am shy, so searching out a bar full of men for someone that may or may not be staring at me was something I couldn't do very comfortably. But I tried again anyway. I couldn't get rid of the feeling and I was never one to let a puzzle go unanalyzed.
I took a deep breath and looked down the other end of the bar, there too, was a group of guys mulling about, drinking and having a good, loud time watching the game. Well, all except one. He made eye contact with me but didn't attempt to look away.
I once watched a documentary about how to flirt with men. The show had a whole hoard of stupid ideas and theories behind why they worked. The only one I could wrap my mind around was 'the stare'. Most people can't look at a stranger for more than 5 seconds. And if you managed to make eye contact last ten, chances are the other person was interested, but if you could make it 15...well, you were basically asking the person to fuck you. And this guy, at the end of the bar, was about to surpass 10 sec.
I smiled slightly in recognition and turned my head back to the screen in front of me and took a long swig of my beer. I was blushing all over and prayed he didn't notice, that he didn't take our interaction as an invitation. He was out of my league. But oh man did I want to look again, he was gorgeous; and I was single; and alone; and in my prime and thinking it had been way too long. I took another drink.
Dammit Sam, use your head, this is a bar and you don't pick up.
I glanced over a couple of times and yup; each time he was still looking.
Didn't he have anything else to do? I mean, I am not the only woman in the bar and the waitresses are hot.
I have to admit though, I did like the attention. I could sense him staring at me, intently, and it made my whole body blush.
He was so unbelievably handsome. He was muscular and had well defined arms and broad shoulders, and the most amazingly tender, blue eyes that at that moment were penetrating right through me. His hair was blonde and spiky and slightly receding, but I found it very striking and attractive. I desperately wanted to feel how smooth the top of his head was on my lips or how the coarseness of his goatee, might feel against the inside of my thighs. Whoa girl, calm, yourself.
From the corner of my eye I could see the group move closer to me and I sat straighter in my seat; nervous that he would approach me; insane thinking, I know, in general, guys like him don't look at women like me. I could feel my body reacting despite my attempt at control. I took another drink.
The bar had filled up, and now there were bodies pushing into the back of me. I was glad I got a stool before the crowd filled in. I glanced one more time down the bar and the group was gone. Part of me was relieved, another disappointed.
Defeated, I motioned to the bartender for another beer, but as I went to pay for it a long, strong arm reached over my shoulder to pay the bartender. Before I could protest, the bartender had turned and was serving another guy further down the bar.
I turned to see who was so presumptuous as to assume I wanted my drink paid for and it was him. He was the body pressed against my back, warm and firm. An immediate awareness took over my body, heat radiated up from my core. I didn't look at him but thanked him.
"Thank you," I said looking down at the drink, too quiet to be heard over the music.
Placing his palm flat on the bar, he leaned in beside me, his cheek brushed against mine. "Sorry?" he said, his voice calm and deliberate.
My skin tingled as the heat from his chest seared through the back of my shirt. He smelled so fresh and clean with a hint of mint. His rum and coke breath infused the air between us as he spoke. I looked straight ahead, confused by my anxiousness and immense attraction for a man I didn't know.