I picked up a bar shift at my old restaurant job because, quite frankly, I didn’t want to spend a Saturday night with my parents…or more than likely myself and my dad’s eighteen year old scotch. So I tended bar and I hit on college girls, and more than a couple of the waitresses that night. I gave out couple free rounds, made some decent cash that I can use on Christmas presents, and got a few numbers and a few invites to another bar after I finished up.
I wound up leaving around the same time of this pretty darn cute hostess who needed a ride, happily I obliged. We sat in my freezing car waiting for the windows to defrost for a little bit. We made the appropriate chit chat. I found out she didn’t have a boyfriend. If it was a television moment there would be a sweet indie love song and forced sexual tension that wasn’t really there, at least on my end. She kept mentioning how a few of the waitresses kept talking about me, and was grilling me about calling them. I guess something about her chiding got to me because after I drove home I didn’t go out again, didn’t call any numbers, just went home, and had a single glass of scotch.
I guess some people get so comfortable in the muck and mire, and I don’t know if I’m one of them. I’d like to get out of this spiral and that hostess kind of bothered me. I’m starting to become disenchanted with this whole entire thing.
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