Tuesday, August 11, 2009

Maybe I Shouln't Drink Alone

Her merlot lips wrapped around the filter of her cigarette, sucking in the heated nicotine and my complete attention. She was talking to a man in a blue blazer, and khaki pants.

I never could respect the blue sports coat with the gold buttons look. It is so department store. "Here I am, a wealthy man, walking off my yacht with my perfectly pressed khakis and boating shoes. Admire me and my superior sense of fashion." Anyone who admires a man for his fashion sense is admiring him for the wrong reason. No man understands fashion, he can just emulate it. This guy was no different. I was sure he subscribed to every man's magazine, washed his face with what Maxim told him to, and jerked off to blondes with fake tits. He was classic, and she was captivating.

He was talking, and she was smiling in between puffs of poison. I probably looked like such a creepster watching this couple. Here I was, some girl at the bar, watching some couple at the bar, yearning for what they had, or that's what it looked like I'm sure. In reality, I was there doing exactly what I wanted to be doing, drinking. I was innocently guzzling down my sugar-free Red Bull and vodkas while the aforementioned woman sat down a couple stools down from me. Before you begin to judge me, I was there celebrating my new found freedom of mankind. Not the whole human race, mind you, just the ones with penises. I digress; so the lady sat down, ordered her fancy water and opened up her compact.

You have got to be fucking kidding me, I thought to myself. The people of Charlotte can be repulsively wealthy. I am not just saying that because I am poor either. Charlotte is a banking city, which means bankers. Bankers mean assholes in navy blue sports coats and pretty ladies in slinky dresses drinking Perrier.

I watched her check her lipstick on her perfect lips. Her middle finger traced the perimeter of her flawless mouth and I thought for a moment how it must feel to be her. She wore an emerald dress that hugged every bit of her tall frame just tight enough to not be trashy. She had long wavy red hair and blemishless porcelain skin. Ginger is the new blonde, folks. How did having a mutant gene become cool? I guess she caught me looking at her, and she smiled at me. She asked me for a light, and I responded with the cliche that I didn't smoke. She nodded and continued to mouth her expensive green bottle of water. The guy came a couple moments later and ordered scotch. I rolled my eyes and asked for another drink. I can be such a bitch sometimes. The man grabbed the woman's chin and planted a small kiss on her lips. She closed her eyes for a second and slowly smiled. He let out a delicate sigh and told her she wass beautiful. I watched all of this while trying not to look like I was watching.

Indantatia, blogger and bar ninja.

I couldn't hear what he was telling her, but she seemed completely interested in everything he had to say. He seemed jittery and self conscious, while she emanated only poise and confidence. What the fuck did she see in him? He scratched the back of his neck as he said something, and they laughed together. He rubbed her leg, and she took another puff. By now I am a voyeur. There is no way they haven't noticed me watching them like a bad movie. I just couldn't help but wonder what the chemistry was between them. They seemed so different. He asked for the tab, and handed the redhead a fifty dollar bill. I remember thinking that two scotches and a Perrier should not require a fifty, but maybe he was trying to impress her. He walked to the restroom and she stuck the bill in her gold clutch. The bartender placed the tab on the counter, and the ginger smiled in acknowledgment. The gentleman returned and whispered something to her while throwing his card on top of the bar. The woman stood up, smashed her cigarette butt into the ashtray and said, "That will cost you a lot more."

The woman walked away and shortly after the bartender returned the card to the man. He left, looking somewhat defeated.

And I thought to myself, so that's how he did it. Only in Charlotte.


  1. OMG you write amazing stuff! This story just drew me in like magic. Thanks for sharing and thanks for stopping by my blog... I'm still mesmerized. (So gullible I know) =)

  2. Beautifully told. You certainly haven’t lost your touch; indeed I particularly liked this one because of smile brought on by the ending; the ‘He left, looking somewhat defeated.’

    I won’t say I always prefer a narrative that makes me smile, but I do tend to prefer them to depressing ones. This made a nice mixture of well written observation and dryly amusing realism.

  3. Really well done Indy - a pleasure to read.

    Those "blue sports coat with the gold buttons " are commonly known as blazers.

    They rock! And have done, ever since Beau Brummel introduced the look in Regency England; Navy blazer, buff trousers and highly polished (have your valet use some burnt champagne) brown boots.

    Great to see you back in form. Please follow this with a graphic post about how you seduced the redhead!


  4. Mega,Simon, and TNT - Thank you

    Lermy - I am afraid of gingers. They will suck your soul out, ya know?

  5. You know, in places like Ireland, everyone ELSE has a mutant gene.

    But, redheads will almost always find a way to turn a romantic encounter into a violent event.

  6. I hear they are very hard to please in bed.

  7. I'm a redhead and I please quite easily in bed. But then again, what man doesn't?

    Thanks for stopping by my place Indantatia. Loved the story and will be back.

  8. Mr.Charleston, I have met many a men that are hard to please in bed....okay, maybe just one

  9. If a woman finds it hard to please a man in bed, then the man probably likes other men.

  10. Thank goodness. I thought it was my constant need to wear a swimmers cap that was turning him off

  11. Naw, it's not the cap. Could be the flippers though.

  12. When it comes to naked women, men are surprisingly shallow, it takes a lot more to freak them out than a swimmer's cap. 1 glass eye won't even do it.

  13. Darling half-sister, you've obviously inherited our father's literary talent. I loved this.

    However, I must warn you that I am, in fact, one of those 'gingers' you've written about in such terrifying terms. My mother is the carrier of that freaky mutant gene. Luckily, you appear to have escaped this fate – I can only assume it's because of Simon's lack of gingery-ness. All I can say is that there is no need to fear redheads. We reserve the soul-sucking purely for party tricks on boring nights. And as for being difficult to please in bed... Well, a lady does have to have standards, you know.

  14. I would love to be at one of those parties then. Don't worry, dear sister, It's not really ginger-bashing if it is purely out of jealousy.

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