The bartender is not writing Victorian erotic short fiction. Instead, he copies information from 'Series 7 For Dummies' onto his notebook. This has been going on for three pages now - has become more of a focus to him than attending to those of us who could use another beer. He says it’s for studying - “I’m gonna pass the test this time.” No further elaboration is made on his part and I don’t feel like asking for any - I’d rather pretend that he’s writing Victorian erotic short fiction.
When I finally mention this to him, he looks at me weird and asks me what the hell I’m talking about. He says that if he were to write any type of short fiction, it would be about hunting. As this is happening, the cocktail waitress’ boyfriend, Matthew, arrives and takes the stool next to mine. He looks over at the bartender’s notebook while the bartender steps away to help another patron.
“What’s he working on?", Matthew asks me.
“A sequel to 'Lady Chatterley’s Lover'.”
“I don’t know what that is.”
It's my turn to not elaborate.
Matthew has a death-grip handshake. When we were first introduced - a couple Sundays earlier at this same bar - I was in the process of chatting up his girlfriend about our shared hometown. After he showed up and gave his girlfriend a hug, she asked Matthew if he had met me yet. He said he hadn't.
"This is Carl."
"Nice to meet you, Carl". And squeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeze.
At first, I thought he was making a subtle, alpha-male attempt at showing me who his girlfriend rightfully belongs to, which - of course - I found hilarious. But as the weeks have passed, and as we've become better acquainted, and as it's become fairly obvious that I'm not making designs for his girlfiend, I've come to realize that that's just the way he does his handshake - the force of it has yet to vary.
Maybe, though, he's still insecure about my intentions. And maybe he has every right to feel that way. Maybe I was lying about not making designs for his girlfriend.
Matthew is on my right. To my left is a girl I've known since she was 17 - met at a house party where she was playing punk songs on a ratty acoustic guitar. That was six years ago. Tonight, she is talking to one of her bandmates about their upcoming European tour - "I still can't decide what to bring along". After that house party, I came over to this bar. When she gets back from Europe, I'll still be right here.
When I finally mention this to him, he looks at me weird and asks me what the hell I’m talking about. He says that if he were to write any type of short fiction, it would be about hunting. As this is happening, the cocktail waitress’ boyfriend, Matthew, arrives and takes the stool next to mine. He looks over at the bartender’s notebook while the bartender steps away to help another patron.
“What’s he working on?", Matthew asks me.
“A sequel to 'Lady Chatterley’s Lover'.”
“I don’t know what that is.”
It's my turn to not elaborate.
Matthew has a death-grip handshake. When we were first introduced - a couple Sundays earlier at this same bar - I was in the process of chatting up his girlfriend about our shared hometown. After he showed up and gave his girlfriend a hug, she asked Matthew if he had met me yet. He said he hadn't.
"This is Carl."
"Nice to meet you, Carl". And squeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeze.
At first, I thought he was making a subtle, alpha-male attempt at showing me who his girlfriend rightfully belongs to, which - of course - I found hilarious. But as the weeks have passed, and as we've become better acquainted, and as it's become fairly obvious that I'm not making designs for his girlfiend, I've come to realize that that's just the way he does his handshake - the force of it has yet to vary.
Maybe, though, he's still insecure about my intentions. And maybe he has every right to feel that way. Maybe I was lying about not making designs for his girlfriend.
Matthew is on my right. To my left is a girl I've known since she was 17 - met at a house party where she was playing punk songs on a ratty acoustic guitar. That was six years ago. Tonight, she is talking to one of her bandmates about their upcoming European tour - "I still can't decide what to bring along". After that house party, I came over to this bar. When she gets back from Europe, I'll still be right here.
