It went down like this. You followed me out of the bar. I was smoking. You said hello.
You had that short, spikey thai butch lesbian hair going on. You looked like a boy. I liked it. I find myself drawn to girls who look like boys, which probably indicates that I’m not all that into girls. They’re an occasional bit of fun, and there’s nothing in the world as fun as flirting with a sexy girl.
“I noticed you across the bar.”, I said, lips still sucking on my cigarette.
It amused you that I said it that way. You laughed at me. You said to let you guess, that I noticed you as I sipped my cocktail.
“As a matter of fact-”
And you kept laughing about it, said to let you guess, that my cocktail was a manhattan.
It was. That’s been my summer cocktail, since I met up with my bearded friend one night a few months ago at an upscale sandwich-serving bar place downtown with low light and high patrons. The mood struck me to order a manhattan, and it was good enough.
You thought it was hilarious that I was drinking a Manhattan, and I thought you were cute.
You told me you recognized me. You used to watch my videos. You opened the door and yelled to your friend that, yes, that was me. Your friend looked like a swimmer, she was cut that way. I had a good feeling about how the night might turn out.
Inside, you joined my table, right next to the pool table. A group of people had been playing all night, and you decided it was your turn, so you started to bug them about letting you and your friends play.
Then you turned to me and said “Now, go get us some drinks.”
It’s funny how one sentence takes the cute right out of a person.
I finished my hilarious manhattan and hit the road.
When you want to play pool you put your fucking quarters on the pool table. I mean, that’s just basic corner bar etiquette.