Saturday was a very long day. I had picked this one girl up off the pavement in my motorcycle class four times. One of the times doing so, I heard a pop in my shoulder and pain started radiating up my neck. My patience was thin, the weather was for sh*t and I was ready for a drink. Lent be d@mned. (Forgive me, Goddess). I drove straight to the lesbian bar after work. This bar is in a really bad part of town [in my opinion]. I parked in what I hoped would be a safe spot and walked around the building only to be greeted by a guy with his hand out. I had just watched the first episode of The Walking Dead and noted the similarities. The mood I was in I wanted to say “Back the f*ck off.” But, I didn’t. I kept walking until I got to the door of the establishment and went inside pulling up a stool at the end of the bar.
There was a cute, young woman bartending (we’ll call her Alex) and two other women in conversation adjacent to me. I struck up a conversation with the bartender and then the woman to my right after the other woman left. The three of us talked on while I sipped my beer. The woman to my right – let’s call her K was from the burbs. She made some remark that she had put on a dress just to come there. I still had my teaching uniform on – a Honda mechanics shirt over a long underwear shirt with a ballcap turned backwards advertising MSF dirtbike school (which, was given to me this past weekend and is turning out to be one of my favorite caps). Yeah, I was dressed up. I looked around the bar wondering who she had dressed up for. There were only a handful of people there. K didn’t really look like the type to wear a dress, either. (Which, was some knit, macramé thing). I don’t know why – I can’t really put my finger on it – just that some people just don’t seem naturally the dress-wearing type (like myself).
Just then, she whipped out her phone and started showing me pictures of her taking this pole dancing class. Again, she didn’t look like the type to take a pole dancing class – and, she had another equally weird dress on in the pole dancing pictures. I handed the phone back to her and said, “Is it a requirement to wear a dress in pole dancing classes?”
“No, but I just wanted to. I like to wear dresses. Do you think I look like a man?”
I about fell off my barstool on that question – despite not looking like the dress type she certainly looked like a woman. No mistaking that. “No, not at all.”
She excused herself to go to the restroom and the bartender asked me what I thought of her.
“She’s too old for me.”
“She’s your age.”
“Oh, so you’re a cougar. Likes the youngin’s.”
“Well, yes, but not as young as you. You could be my kid.”
“So, what’s your type?”
“Well, somewhere in the 30’s. I don’t know – there’s this hot bartender over at this pub near my house. I started going there to see her – until I found out that she’s married to a firefighter – a female firefighter. I mean, why can’t I be married to a firefighter?” I fake sobbed, tapping the bar with my fist.
“Oh, please. You’re cute. No one ever guess your age, either. You got that whole motorcycle thing going. It works for you.”
“Yeah, but this sh!t never happens to me. I never get lucky. The other hot chick I met who is a motorcycle instructor, too – married. The hot Methodist minister – again, married. The firefighter – MARRIED.”
Just then K came back from the restroom. “I have to go to my roommates birthday party but I’m coming back. Will you still be here at midnight?”
I laughed. “Sweetheart, I will have been asleep almost 4 hours by then.”
“Well, here’s my number and email address. Look me up and we’ll go out.”
She left and I said to Alex. “See, what I mean?”
“I only get asked out by men and suburban pole dancers who look weird in dresses.”
Alex poured a shot of Yager and slid it towards me. “It will get better. I promise.”
Just then the door opened and a man walked in, in a dress – dressed in drag. He pulled off the dress much better than K, I thought. He/she sat down at the bar next to me and said, “Hey, sugar. You’re cute.”
I rolled my eyes and chugged the rest of my beer. Alex took my cue and slide my tab across the bar giving me a sympathetic look. As I walked out I heard her call over my shoulder. “You’ll find your firefighter, Lanie. Whether she holds a hose or not.”