It had been a long, rough day ... eh, week ... no, month and year at my job! I don't quite know how I got suckered into getting a job at a jail, but I do know why I was being kept there. The paycheck was nice, and in an economy such as the one that our "Great White Hope;" ex president G.W.Jr has put us in, being with out a job isn't an option. (I'm sorry to sound racist in that last statement, but sometimes the truth just falls out of my mouth when I talk; but that's not the reason that I'm writing.)
I didn't want to go straight home; I needed something to calm my nerves. My bosses were on my ass; upper management was on my bosses asses, and my immediate supervisor was on my nerves, and so on and so on.
I don't go to the bar anymore, I would rather buy my liquor at the store and enjoy at home, but I've been single for the last two years and drinking by yourself really isn't a good thing when you're depressed, so I decided to stop past the first bar that looked interesting.
I came upon a small sports bar and I went inside to check things out.
The interior was nice, it was a Detroit Lions bar, but although I was a Pittsburgh Steelers fan, I looked past the décor and went ahead and ordered my drink.
The bartender was cute, eh, maybe about a 4 or a 5 on my scale, but that's all... "Hey, can I get a Beam and Ginger?"
She walked away without speaking and returned with my drink. She picked up my twenty off of the bar and proceeded to the register to cash it out. She returned with my change and walked back to her seat still without any sound at all. "Fucking Robot," I must have mumbled out loud, because a giggle came from a couple seats down.
I didn't mean to say it out loud, but I must have, and as I looked down the bar, my eyes met the most beautiful set of blue eyes that I have ever seen. They were attached to a brown mop, and judging by her posture, a five foot seven inch body of a quite stunning young lady.
Her eyes were warm and sparkling and very friendly, but I didn't engage in conversation other than to apologize for my mindless outburst. "Sorry ... that wasn't supposed to come out like that."
She smiled again, and nodded.
I looked back toward my drink and blanked out mindlessly back into my own little world of depression.
I just sat, thinking about my bosses and my job, loathing everything about them; my lack of female companionship, and so on, and before I knew it, I was slurping the end of my glass. I looked down at it, and then back up to the robot that was picking at her finger nails, and popping a piece of bubblegum loudly.
"Excuse me," I said politely, despite how I felt for her at the current moment...
She looked up at me, and then down at my glass, and slithered off of her bar stool, and shuffled her feet down to my end of the bar. "Another one," she whined more than questioned.
"Please," I answered almost as whiney as she questioned.
Again came a little giggle, this time more stifled than the first, from the other end of the bar. I looked down towards her again, and the same warm sparkling eyes were staring into mine.
I was starting to think I was bothering her, well more like amusing her, she was sitting at the bar as quietly as was, seemingly "crying into her drink" just as much as I was. The TV playing in the corner of the bar wasn't really being watched by any of us, the robot included, and we were all pretty much in our own little worlds other than the giggles and glances that I would get occasionally from 'chicky' at the end of the bar.
I wanted to introduce myself, but decided against it and slammed the drink back in a couple gulps and kind of slammed the glass on the bar. The couple of drinks that I had consumed went straight to my bladder and I stood to go to the bathroom to relieve myself. I heard a stifle behind me, and I assumed that it came from the young lady at the bar, but when I went towards the bathroom instead of the door, I didn't hear anything else. Paying it no mind, I walked into the men's room and to the stall.
I pulled my rod out to relieve the pressure and found it half hard, either in excitement that this young lady was showing me the attention that she was, or the fact that I really had to go ... I couldn't tell which.
Upon finishing, I put 'mini me' back in his denim cage and walked back out to my seat, where I found another full drink sitting in the place of the empty glass that I had left. I looked down at the pile of money that was on the bar, and realized that it hadn't changed in value; meaning I didn't pay for the last drink that I had received or this one. I looked up at "Robot Girl," who realized the rational that was playing in my head, and promptly pointed at the Blue Eyed Brunette sitting across the bar from her. 'Damn, Now I have to go introduce myself, at least to say thank you for her gesture.' I thought.
Instead of sitting down, I grabbed my drink and the money that was on the bar, and my trench coat and I walked down the bar towards the pretty young thing that was kind enough to pay for the last two doses of my addiction.
"Thank you kindly for the drinks Angel. The name is Dominic, and you are?"
"Rebekah Wilson," she chirped brightly.
"What brings you into a bar by yourself, Rebekah Wilson?"
"Well, you can just call me Beckah, but a bad relationship brings me into a bar alone. Men can really suck at times."
"Yeah, you're right," I wanted to rebut and add my own two cents about women, but I figured this wasn't the time, " ... we do, and I'm sorry about your current situation."
"Thanks, but no sympathy needed, I did it to myself. I don't know how to leave a relationship at the right time, and I stayed well past my welcome. He showed me signs that our relationship was falling apart, but I tried to stick around to fix things, and when he went out and cheated again, and again, I still stuck around in hopes that things would change for the better."
Alright, before I get too in depth with our conversation, I want to let you know that this girl looked to be about 5 years my junior, and was "way out of my league" in my opinion; not that I was trying to pick her up or anything. She looked like the type that I wouldn't approach when I was in high school, because she was too hot for me. You know, the cheerleader and the science nerd type of thing, but at the moment, I realized that my help was more needed than my "Hotness Comparison Chart."
"Well I don't know if there's anything that I can say or do that will change your situation. I'm not really good at the Doctor Phil thing. I've not exactly had the best relationships ... or much of one at all in the past couple of years."
"Believe it or not, I don't want any advice. All I want is someone to get drunk with at three o'clock in the afternoon, so I can forget all of my problems, and I will probably drag myself home and get in bed for an early night, and then tomorrow, I'll wake up and forge the day with courage, vigor, and strength, as I have been for the past seventy two hours..." her voice trailed off, as she stared blankly at the display bar behind the robot.
I didn't know what to say or do in this situation, and I wanted to wrap my arms around her and fix things for her. I have a good heart, as most people do too, so I couldn't just blow her off.
I went to open my mouth to say anything, something to cheer her up, and she cut me off. "Shots?" she asked before turning to Robot Girl... "Hey can I get a couple of shots?"
I really didn't want to get drunk, but I wasn't going to let her go at it alone, so I figured, 'what the fuck ... why not?'
As the girl walked over, Bekah called out, "Two chilled double shots of Crown Royal please."
The girl turned to the back bar, and grabbed the bottle to make the shots and Rebekah turned to look at me. "You drink whiskey don't you?"
"Yeah, I'm drinking Jim Beam right now, but I can drink Crown."
The girl brought the shots to us, and collected the cash off of Rebekah's pile of money. We picked up the shots, slamming them back and Rebekah pushed her glass back to the bartender. "Two more please," she asked as the bartender grabbed the shot glasses and repeated her prior motion.
By this time, I was already starting to get a buzz from the alcohol that I had consumed and I could see that Rebekah was too. She got up, pulling a couple single bills from the pile of money that was on the bar and she proceeded to the juke box to play some music. An older gentleman had walked in a couple minutes before this, and had ordered a beer, and went to a corner booth to quietly drown his own sorrows away, and I looked toward him as my newly found friend bee-bopped her way to the juke box. I wondered what she was going to play, and if it would bother him to the point of leaving. My friend was about twenty two or three, so I knew the music she listened too, wasn't anything someone of his age would listen to ... but to my surprise, the first couple of notes that were played were to the song "Benny and the Jets" by Elton John.
Even in my drunken stage, I laughed remembering Katherine Heigl and her male counter part in the movie '27 Dresses' when that song came on and they started drunk dancing around the bar. (Guys like romantic sappy chick flicks too occasionally.)
"Please dance with me?" Rebekah asked me when she sauntered back to my bar stool.
"Um, no..." I laughed. "This really isn't a song to dance too," I poked back at her.
"Come on, Don't make me beg you. Just get up and dance," she pleaded, "There's no one in here but us, and the bartender."
.... There is more of this story ...