I had just finalized my divorce from my husband, Jeff, and I was looking to celebrate. Oh, I know that the politically correct thing to say on these occasions is that, "We both worked hard to keep our marriage working, but we just couldn't agree," but the truth is, Jeff was (hell, still IS) a snake, a cad, a cheat, and an all-around bad guy.
What else would you call a guy who quit his job, 'to find myself,' leaving me as the sole support, not more than a week after I miscarried our child? And who then, two months later, took out a second mortgage, forging my signature, and going on a vacation, by himself, to Las Vegas, sticking me with the bills while he blows the money at craps?
So yeah, I was happy to see him go. Good riddance to bad trash. I was working at paying off our debts, and restoring my credit rating to some semblance of stability. Maybe in a year or two I'd be able to buy something on credit at WalMart...if I were lucky. I had a small apartment downtown, no car of course - it was long since sold off to pay Jeff's bills, but that was part of the beauty of living downtown. I could find pretty much everything I needed there, and could take the bus to work.
I guess it must have been funny seeing a mid-level executive getting off the bus at Karsk Accounting Associates, but I was just playing the cards I was dealt. The people I worked with made things a lot easier for me. Debby, my 'best work friend,' was always willing to listen to my complaints, without trying to leap in telling me things I should have done. Kathy, an older woman, sort of a mother hen, would tell me about her grandchildren, and that just helped me to forget my troubles. Every day I'd greet the young receptionist Marla, then head up to the 4th Floor. Marla always had a nice smile for me, and sometimes that was the only lift I got during the day. Joe, my boss, was very understanding and 'overlooked' when I was late because of some crisis. As a result, I made sure I ALWAYS made up the lost time, and then some. I tried to be sure to say something nice to each of them every day, and remember their birthdays with some little gift that meant something to them.
Anyway, I had taken the day off work to sign the papers at my lawyers, and I really felt like buying myself a drink, to celebrate, as I said. I wasn't familiar with the bars in my neighborhood, mainly because I usually had little money to spend in them. There was one that I'd often noticed, by the name of Sapphisticated Lady, that looked nice. The 'Sapph' part was very stylized, so I wasn't really sure what it spelled, though I figured it out later. In retrospect, I guess the name should have been a clue (well, duh!), but I was a little naive about such things then.
I stepped inside, and the cool shadows inside felt immediately comforting. I didn't see anyone else inside, other than the bartender, which was fine with me, as I was there to bid a final adieu to my biggest mistake. The bartender, a middle aged blonde, asked what I'd have. I told her I'd heard that White Russians were nice, so I'd like one of those.
"Not a regular drinker, huh?" she said with a smile.
"No," I replied. "Just celebrating the loss of an albatross."
"An alba-what?" she asked, looking puzzled.
"Albatross," I said. "It's from 'The Rime of the Ancient Mariner,' by Coleridge. A guy has to go around with an albatross, it's like a seagull I guess, around his neck. So it's kind of a metaphor for having something unpleasant in your life you just can't get rid of. In my case, I just finalized my divorce from a scumbag."
"A man, huh?" she said. "Yeah, we get them driving a lot of customers in here," she said with a smirk. "I don't mind though, it builds my business and sometimes results in playmates. What's not to like?"
Now it was my turn to look puzzled. "Playmates?" I said.
"Honey, you DO know this is a dyke bar, don't you?" she said.
"Umm, a lesbian bar?" I said, slowly. I guess a look of understanding passed over my face then, because the bartender began nodding. "Oh, Sappho, I get it. That's kind of cute. Um, but I'm not..."
"Honey, if I had a dime for every time somebody said...well, I could retire and move to Malibu with Anne Heche. Look, I don't care if you are or aren't, I just didn't want you to be too surprised when someone came onto you. You ARE pretty cute."
"You think so?" I asked, unable to resist fishing for a compliment, even from one of, uh, them.
"Tall, feminine looking, curly brown hair, blue eyes, not a bad face. Yeah, good luck with that. Girls here don't put up with much crap, so watch your step if you stick around. And, uh, I hope you will. You know, I get off at eight, if..."
"Um, thanks, but I'm just here for a drink, even if I am, or not," I finished, trying to sound mysterious while shooting her down. I'd never been with a girl, though I didn't have any particular objections to other people doing that. I'd just never thought about it for myself.
She went back to polishing the bar, and I went back to polishing off my drink. It was pretty good, sweet and coffee-ish, and I couldn't taste any liquor in it. As you might guess, I'm not a practiced drinker, so I don't really like the taste of alcohol. She asked me every once in a while if I wanted it freshened, which I did, and I began to relax. Several other people came in during that time, well, to be specific, several other women came in, though a couple of them looked kind of rough.
The place began to fill up pretty rapidly, and I realized it was after five o'clock, I guess people having a drink after work, on their way home. Of course, it was all women, and I surveyed the crowd. There were some very attractive women, some cute women, some plain women, and some women who looked like a couple of miles of bad road. In other words, a typical group of women, gay or straight. Except for the way that some of them dressed, like exceptionally masculine men, they otherwise looked like anybody else.