So as you all know, as of a few months ago, I have become single. But what you may not all know is that this is the first time I have been single in over 3 years. And this is certainly the longest amount of time I have been consecutively single. And I apologize for saying the word "single" in every sentence of this paragraph.
Since it's been awhile since I've been on "the scene", as the kids say, I have no fuckin clue how to flirt anymore. What I have realized is that since becoming unattached, I have turned into a significantly meaner person. Well, maybe not mean, but I no longer go out of my way to be polite if I don't like what a person is saying. Needless to say, of the very few people that have actually approached me since my breakup, I'm pretty sure I've scared them off by truly not giving a shit about what they were saying. I don't fall for lines anymore, I don't want to talk to you if you're wasted, and if I ask you what you do for a living and you say you're "still figuring that out", I'm not going to spend one more second wasting either of our time.
Let me also point out that when I do actually find a guy I like, I become paralyzingly shy, so that doesn't help much either. Fortunately, in the past few months I have not found a single guy who has peaked my interest in the romance department, so no shyness here! Whoo! (That was sarcasm as well...)
As a final bit of Alexis Trivia before I get to the actual story, I have never just walked up to a guy and given him my number.
Ok, that all being said, let's get down to business. My friends and I have our favorite little hole-in-the-wall dive bar that we frequent quite often throughout the week and weekend. I mean, we're not there every night by any means, but we definitely go through phases where we are ThisClose to being the creepy regulars that may as well come with the bar. Let's just say this place is our Cheers. We have our favorite table, we know all the bartenders, and if the jukebox isn't playing enough country and "Come On Eileen" for our liking, we make magic happen.
So anyway, for some reason we all decided that I was going to give one of the bartenders my phone number. He's known as "the hot bartender", but if we're riding the honesty train here, I've never really found him to be as mind-numbingly gorgeous as everyone else does. Regardless, I was somehow convinced by my friends that he was flirting with me so I jumped on board just for funsies.
Last night I decided it was time to make my move. I picked up one of my girls and we drove over, quickly realizing that the bar was packed because the Flyers game was on. So we found a table inside even though Hot Bartender was working at the outside bar on the deck. As the game ends, we inch our way over to his bar and sit down and he sees us and gives us a "Hey ladies." We make small talk throughout the next half hour or so (and by "we" I mean mostly him and my friend because I suck), and then I finally just ask him for a piece of paper and a pen. Which he gives me. I write down my name and number and because the universe has proven that it is constantly against me on both a large and small scale, the top of the bar wasn't completely smooth so the name and number ended up looking like Helen Keller had written it with her un-dominant hand during an earthquake.
I look up and hot bartender has walked away. Meanwhile, one of the other bartenders keeps coming up and blatantly flirting with him and shooting us looks like "Step off bitches", even though she was the one that told us he was "very single" just a few days before. So eventually she leaves and Hot Bartender comes back and this is the conversation that follows:
"Hey, come here for a sec."
"What's up."
"So, I know we've never really talked, but I'm going to give this to you cause, well, I want to."
"Ok."
"It's my number."
"Uh, yeah, I know."
"Oh."
Ok, this isn't going so well. I turn to my friend for support and SHE'S GONE. So I turn back to Hot Bartender and the awkward conversation follows with us bantering (and by bantering I mean one sentence each) about how word around town is that I'm awesome. Then he starts to say something like "We could probably do something..." before he is cut off by the flirting bartender who returns with a PRESENT SHE MADE FOR HIM THAT DAY. So Hot Bartender turns and puts my number on the pile of receipts next to the cash register, the pile that is just asking to be blown away in the wind, and walks away. Meanwhile, I found myself searching frantically for a sharp object to gouge my eyes out.
Then my friend and I ended up staying at the bar for about 3 more hours, sitting right there in front of the first guy I had ever given my number to. During this time, there was a water gun fight, and a group of drunk guys asking which girl in the bar was going to get naked. Now, nothing pisses me off more than being surrounded by extremely drunk people when I'm not drunk enough. And unfortunately for one of these guys, he wasn't able to realize this. So he would not leave me alone until I turned to him and yelled,
"I'M NOT INTO YOU, NO WE ARE NOT FRIENDS, AND NO I DON'T FIND YOU FUNNY. NOW STOP TALKING TO ME CAUSE YOU'RE PISSING ME OFF."
I turn to my friend and tell her we have to leave before I "punch that guy in the face, I swear to god". So she gets her stuff and I lean over and call Hot Bartender over one more time.
"Listen," I say, "if you don't use the number that's totally cool, just make sure you rip it up and throw it out though cause I don't want it floating around the bar."
His response was, "No, I put it with my tips, I got it."
Apparently the receipts were the tips from people's tabs. So I ended the night with a nice little blonde moment.
Summary? I went from shy girl that might have been intriguing to Hot Bartender, to awkward girl that gave him her number and was pretty much rejected as nicely as possible, to loud angry bitch that surely drove the nail all the way in by completely terrifying Hot Bartender.
By the way, he hasn't called. Shocking, right?
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