A Brit

I went out with a high school friend on Saturday night who was in town for the weekend. We were with her friends, most of whom I didn’t know. I thought I’d get psyched up for some socializing while I was getting dressed, but not even my new pink pumps could put me in the mood for small talk and beer. After dinner we went to a bar downtown and I marveled at snagging a seat at the bar. My friend sat down next to me and her group of about 6 people circled around her. I was left on the outside and kind of happy about it because my mood slowly started to go down. I started blowing straws across the bar and got some quirky looks from some guys but was really in my own little world.

I promise you I do have manners and can socialize. But I’m the kind of person who can’t be forced into small talk, not even to be polite when I’m not in the mood.

I don’t know how or why but I started talking to this guy next to me. We’ll call him A. He immediately got points for having an English accent and for being a cutie and noticeably older. He was thirty and works in finance and a big fan of vodka sodas and Guinness.

We talked for the rest of the night. He introduced me to his friend who was quite drunk and at the point of swaying. Since I didn’t care to impress either of these guys I was my normal, sarcastic self which really intrigued A. It felt good to flirt and joke and be mysterious and then blatantly honest. And then back to mysterious. What can I say- it’s how I reel them in.

A was funny. Drunk. But funny. He kept on calling me Marmaduke, which I thought was just the right amount of awkward funny that I like. Around 2AM, A asked me to go to another bar. But at that point I explained I was tired but I really liked talking to him and wouldn’t mind getting together sometime. Why not cut through the crap right?

A took my number and said he’d call me this week to get dinner. He leaned in for a kiss and I gave in. Nothing crazy, just a polite, friendly flirty goodbye kiss.

So we’ll see, it looks like I’ve started at least somewhere and slowly getting off of ground zero...I’m cynical about meeting guys in bars though and find it highly unrealistic that you can actually meet a genuine guy in a bar. But fuck it, he was cute and tall and had an accent. So the worst that can happen- he doesn’t call and I continue to read self help books.