I used to be a self-confident woman with a positive self-image. At the start of this story over the last year both had slowly crumbled and almost hit rock bottom. The near bottoming-out occurred when I confronted my husband of 22 years about his cheating with a 32 year old married woman with two small kids. When confronted he didn't even bother to deny it or apologize for it. "Deal with it," was his attitude apparently convinced that I wouldn't divorce him since I had more money than he did and he'd get some of it, and because he thought that I was such a dog that I had no alternative but to stay married.
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My grand plan to get picked up to demonstrate that I was still desirable started out when I walked into a bar I had never been in before, but seemed to be upscale. As I sat there drinking but not getting hit on what little self-confidence I had was quickly eroding. I was beginning to realize that my idea was stupid. While maybe an older man could easily pick up a desperate slut at a bar to get even with a cheating wife, how could I expect that my 58 year old ass would be desirable to anyone at a young singles bar like the one I had chosen this Friday night? I hadn't been in a bar for decades but I thought for sure that women still got picked up in bars if they were even halfway attractive. Since I rarely drink and I already had too many my numbing mind was coming to the conclusion that I was mutton pretending to be lamb.
I was especially distressed since as far as I could tell I was the only woman in the bar; I must really be nasty looking, I thought, if I was the only choice and still didn't get even one pickup line.
There did seem to be two guys that were eyeing me - the two young studly dudes looking me over had to be the bar's bouncers. They had muscles on muscles and had to be in their 20s they looked so young. It was probably just their job to make sure that I didn't have my purse stolen or something. I had no illusions that they looked upon me as a sex object.
I kept merrily drinking away, getting happier on the outside, and more depressed on the inside. Then I recall laying my head on the bar, and somebody asking me some questions. The next thing that I remembered was waking up in a strange bed.
I don't know if I was thankful that no one was in bed with me, or sad; or that I had all of my clothes still on except for my shoes. With a throbbing headache and much effort I pushed myself out of bed and wobbled into a washroom connected to the bedroom I was in. I did my business, splashed myself with water to wake up, cringed as I looked into the mirror, and then went back to the bedroom to find my shoes. They were at the foot of the bed; I put them on and unsteadily walked out of the bedroom door.
"Nice to see that you're still alive," came a husky male voice owned by a big young guy sitting in his underwear at a kitchen table off to my left.
"In another half hour we were going to take you to a hospital," chuckled a different male voice coming out of a second bedroom off to my right, this voice also owned by a big guy in his underwear.
After squinting a while to try and get my bearings I recognized the two guys. They were the muscular bouncers from the bar the night before.
"Uh...is this your apartment?" I asked the guy at the kitchen table as the other guy walked toward him.
"Actually, it's a small detached house, but yeah this is what we rent," the guy at the table said.
Then they both walked toward me; the one who had been sitting at the table extended his hand and said "Hi, Lizbeth, I'm Jack, and this ugly dude," he continued pointing at his friend who was the opposite of ugly "is Cam, short for Cameron; but don't ever call him that because he has a mean right hook."
I shook their hands and asked "Are you the bouncers from last night?"
"In the flesh," Cam responded.
"How did you know that my name is Lizbeth?" I next asked.
"We looked at your license in your purse - the photo doesn't do you justice but it's close enough for us to know that it was you. When you were laying your head on the bar we asked you if you wanted us to take you home. You begged us not to and since we couldn't leave you in the bar or dump you outside, we brought you to our house," Jack continued.
"Want some coffee?" Cam asked as he pulled a mug from a cabinet.
"Uh...sure, if you don't mind," I replied.
Jack led me over the chair he had been sitting in, sat next to me, and Cam handed me a cup of coffee and then sat on the other side of me.
"So whose bed did I sleep in?" I asked.
"Mine," Jack chuckled. "We tried to put you on the couch but you fell off, so I took the couch and gave you my bed" he continued.
"Wow - that's really nice of you," I earnestly responded. "Why are you so gentlemanly?"
"You remind me of my mother," Jack grinned.
That brought me back to reality - these guys were so young that they couldn't possibly have any sexual interest in me - at least that's what I was sure of until Cam laughed "And he's wanted to fuck his mother since he was 18."
Rather than denying it, Jack laughed too.
Seeing the perplexed look on my face Cam continued "Don't worry - I didn't let him fuck you last night; but he'll probably try it in the future so be on guard."
I was even more perplexed. Speaking to Cam I asked "Why would he want to have sex with me?"
They both looked at each other, and then back at me. "You are kidding, right?" Jack asked.
"No...here I tried for an entire evening to get picked up in a bar without even one nibble. Then you two guys who are hunks-and-a-half and could get almost any woman you wanted say you want to have sex with me. I'm confused."
Cam and Jack exchanged smiles. Then Cam said "Uh...Lizbeth. Next time you want to get picked up don't try a gay bar."
Then they both started laughing hysterically while I'm sure that I turned crimson.