So – how to be single again?
Last night I went to meet my friend Britt for dinner. To preface, Britt and I have been friends for over ten years. I met her when I was the ripe young age of 16 when she was a much older, wiser 18. I was totally jealous of her ability to not have a curfew and legally buy cigarettes at any location she chose. SHE didn’t have to drive 20 minutes away to the Mercado - where they did not ask for ID and forced you to put all of your nicotine purchases in a brown paper bag as to avoid the local policia who were waiting for minors to exit. My mom LOVES Britt – even though I have told her countless stories about how she was the one to introduce me to anything illegal I have ever seen. Not that this is an issue now and it does not seem to impact my mother’s opinion of her. But at 16, she was not the best influence I could have had. Regardless, we have had some pretty funny times growing up together.
Britt lives pretty far out in the country so we agreed to meet in between our houses for dinner. This happens to be right next to where I went to high school so I end up seeing many people who have not left the area and feel the need to immediately tell them I went to college and have a real job when I see them. Regardless, the area has grown a lot in the past ten years since my attendance at what was known at one point as “Corn Field High” and there are many cute, young professionals who work and live there.
Of course, Britt was running late and I had to wait at the bar. This was the first time since my messy break up with Rugby Guy where I have been to a bar alone and actually felt single. It was like stepping into Narnia. I looked around and there were so many men. Men in suits. I don’t know about you, but nothing is hotter than a young professional man right after he gets off work and takes off his tie and is sitting down to relax. They still look authoritative and professional but like they can still have fun. I also work in the software industry, so suits are few and far between.
I got a glass of wine and then sat. Alone. At the bar. I used to have to wait alone at bars all the time for friends before RG and it never bothered me. And then when you I had a boyfriend, I didn’t really care. I honestly didn’t even look at the men around me or notice if they were checking me out. (This is something that RG was clearly not doing when he was alone at bars with strange women) But this time it was different. I felt like it was a meat market. Any of these men could be my soulmate. I probably should have actually dried my hair!
My legs were shaky like a baby fawn trying to walk again. I made awkward eye contact with every man in the bar and could not decide if they were looking at me because they knew I was not comfortable or because of “The Girls” I had prominently displayed prior to leaving my house. In the past, I have tried to compensate for my lack of flirting with the addition of a DD cup – so when I left the house I knew I had to arm myself with something.
The worst part? Every conversation on every side of me involved someone talking about marriage or babies. Of course.
After 20 minutes of fumbling with my iPhone and shifting uncomfortably in my stool, Britt arrived and announced she wanted to eat at the bar. Luckily there were no seats and I quickly ushered her to the back dining room where there were only families and people over the age of 55.
I am really going to have to work on this Single Bar Time. Or start to collect cats.
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