Smooth to the groove like sandwich bread
”Citron and OJ, Mandarin and 7 and a Manhattan up”
”You want the Manhattan in a martini glass?”
”Yea”
”just checking... it’s bigger when it comes in a regular glass”
”I dunno, it’s not for me.... So, did you like the Scissor Sisters concert. I saw you there with that red muppet vest on.”
”Ya know, you’re the third person I don’t know to ask me that tonight.”
”Oh damn... I guess I should have come up with a better line then.”
”ha ha... no but really, it was an awesome show. I loved the light display. It was incredible.”
”Yea (God, I can’t remember a fucking thing. just agree... AGREE!) Yea, awesome. It was one of the best shows I’ve ever seen.”
”Ok, Manhattan, Citron and OJ and a Mandarin and 7.... $17.”
”Ok”
”I’m Brad.. nice to meet you.”
”Um... Chris... Hi. Nice to meet you.”
”Thanks Chris, have a good night, ok.”
”Yes.”
The bartender in question I have seen many times. And, many times I have caught him looking at me. No matter that he seems to have a rep for looking at everyone. In those few minutes I felt the fleeting glory of his attention totally directed at me. Shirtless with his jeans barely hanging on his skinny waist. The bulge of his ab muscles tightening and loosening as he moved and bent and shifted. The softness of his skin; unblemished and young; though I think he’s older than he lets on.
In fact, he looks like a clone of the lead singer of Scissor Sisters. Uncanny clone. My entire night was made even if his introduction was nothing more than working a tip. No never mind to me.
Rockwell’s out-of-town friend was quite the interesting hottie. But, he seemed to want to ”know” me; labeling me jaded and bitter. Whether I am in my own head or not, I think it’s far more complex than that. And, so impossible to explain to someone that has no background detail. I don’t not date because of a bad break-up two years ago. I don’t dislike sex because I am intellectually inferior and looking for purpose. I’ve been there. I’ve done that. I’ve tasted the pain, blood, sweat, tears and semen. Yea, maybe you’ve lived in a half dozen cities to find yourself and I’ve only been in Chicago. But, it’s not Chicago that is a problem for me. It’s aspects of the human condition that are prevalent no matter where a person goes.
Oh and yes, thank you for sticking your hand down my pants and touching my package. It was cold and your hand was nice and warm.
Thank the maker I don’t have to work tomorrow. Only the lame terror of having to Xmas shop. I really feel like seeing a movie right now.
And, yes, I know I am attractive. I just got a haircut so there’s no better day than today for me to agree. But I see myself naked. I feel the flab when I sit... sit right here even typing. I see the numbers on the scale. I feel the disgusting sense of excess as I pile on the ice cream and soda I’ve been drinking. I don’t need outside opinion on this. I feel fat.... and at the moment, the scale agrees with me. Someone my age, with my body type, could look better. I don’t look better.. I look average at best.... This upsets me. I don’t give a flying fuck what anyone else thinks.... I personally, living in this body, feel unhappy... You can’t understand if you even think of telling me otherwise, let alone actually vocally saying so.
Ryan Reynolds. Damn you for reminding me I am gross.
”You want the Manhattan in a martini glass?”
”Yea”
”just checking... it’s bigger when it comes in a regular glass”
”I dunno, it’s not for me.... So, did you like the Scissor Sisters concert. I saw you there with that red muppet vest on.”
”Ya know, you’re the third person I don’t know to ask me that tonight.”
”Oh damn... I guess I should have come up with a better line then.”
”ha ha... no but really, it was an awesome show. I loved the light display. It was incredible.”
”Yea (God, I can’t remember a fucking thing. just agree... AGREE!) Yea, awesome. It was one of the best shows I’ve ever seen.”
”Ok, Manhattan, Citron and OJ and a Mandarin and 7.... $17.”
”Ok”
”I’m Brad.. nice to meet you.”
”Um... Chris... Hi. Nice to meet you.”
”Thanks Chris, have a good night, ok.”
”Yes.”
The bartender in question I have seen many times. And, many times I have caught him looking at me. No matter that he seems to have a rep for looking at everyone. In those few minutes I felt the fleeting glory of his attention totally directed at me. Shirtless with his jeans barely hanging on his skinny waist. The bulge of his ab muscles tightening and loosening as he moved and bent and shifted. The softness of his skin; unblemished and young; though I think he’s older than he lets on.
In fact, he looks like a clone of the lead singer of Scissor Sisters. Uncanny clone. My entire night was made even if his introduction was nothing more than working a tip. No never mind to me.
Rockwell’s out-of-town friend was quite the interesting hottie. But, he seemed to want to ”know” me; labeling me jaded and bitter. Whether I am in my own head or not, I think it’s far more complex than that. And, so impossible to explain to someone that has no background detail. I don’t not date because of a bad break-up two years ago. I don’t dislike sex because I am intellectually inferior and looking for purpose. I’ve been there. I’ve done that. I’ve tasted the pain, blood, sweat, tears and semen. Yea, maybe you’ve lived in a half dozen cities to find yourself and I’ve only been in Chicago. But, it’s not Chicago that is a problem for me. It’s aspects of the human condition that are prevalent no matter where a person goes.
Oh and yes, thank you for sticking your hand down my pants and touching my package. It was cold and your hand was nice and warm.
Thank the maker I don’t have to work tomorrow. Only the lame terror of having to Xmas shop. I really feel like seeing a movie right now.
And, yes, I know I am attractive. I just got a haircut so there’s no better day than today for me to agree. But I see myself naked. I feel the flab when I sit... sit right here even typing. I see the numbers on the scale. I feel the disgusting sense of excess as I pile on the ice cream and soda I’ve been drinking. I don’t need outside opinion on this. I feel fat.... and at the moment, the scale agrees with me. Someone my age, with my body type, could look better. I don’t look better.. I look average at best.... This upsets me. I don’t give a flying fuck what anyone else thinks.... I personally, living in this body, feel unhappy... You can’t understand if you even think of telling me otherwise, let alone actually vocally saying so.
Ryan Reynolds. Damn you for reminding me I am gross.