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There's a boy next to me and he never will be anything but a boy at the bar.

I see you. Over there in the nook to the left of the bar. The shadowy place that no one ever notices unless you’re looking for it. The place I always look because that’s where you always are. And I see you. And I see her. Climbing all over you like some sort of primate. Maybe it’s because you’re so tall. Maybe it’s because she’s the size of a pixie. Either way, I can’t take my eyes away.

I feel no jealousy. All I feel is warm. Tequilla. Whisky. Vodka. My blood is a coctail and all I feel is warm and the urge to dance. So I do. I completely forget about you because my needs are more important than you are. And it feels so good. Hair flips. Hip sways. Two steps. It’s wonderful. But then a song I don’t know comes on. And I stop dancing. And I look over. And you’re watching me.

How long had I been there? How long had you noticed I was there? “Let’s go get another drink,” my friend says. Followed by a walk to the bar. It’s crowded. I stand back. You make your move.

“So where’s your man?” you ask.

“I don’t have one. But, hello. I noticed you earlier, but I didn’t want to say anything. You seemed pre-occupied.”

“She’s just a co-worker.” Why are you on the defense? I don’t care who she is. I don’t care what you’ve been doing. I just came here to dance. I was just going to say hi. I want no explanations about who you do or don’t run into the bathroom behind the bar to fuck until the angry mob of people in line threaten to break down the door. Oh, yeah. I saw that too.

“Sure she is. Get me a drink.” And then two shots appear in my hand. And I take them both at the same time. And I hand back the glasses. And I dance away into the crowd. I don’t want to remember anything.

And for a while I don’t. Until closing time. When you try to corner me on my way out the door. Why don’t I come over and see the renovations on the apartment, you ask. How about Monday. Tuesday? Wednsday. Well you, don’t work on Friday, so does Friday work for me? I decline. It’s a generous offer, but no thank you.

My friend and I stop for pizza on the way home. My phone beeps and buzzes. I have recieved a text. “You blew me off. Again. I’m done with you.”

Ok.
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