Bartenders are an unusual cocktail of intrigue: mix one part flirtation with one-part charm, add a splash of reservation and a top it with a twist of disinterest; shake well and strain into a good-looking martini glass. Our specialty drink tonight, ladies, is an Emotionally Distant Social Magnet. Bartenders pump up our self esteem, but is there more to it than just a wink and a tip? Is it their job to refill both our drinks and self confidence? Or is it their drive to just shake it up? Most importantly, how do you know when you've finally had too much and it's time to close out the tab?
When I walked into the bar that first night, I was drawn to his infectious smile and beautiful big green eyes. He was wearing a green baseball cap that covered up is radiant red hair. Before him, my only experiences with Red Headed Sluts were out of a shot glass, with one eye closed. My friend and I sat at the bar and talked with him casually throughout the evening. I should have guessed how it would turn out when he asked if I "work in the industry" meaning do I keep the same crazy hours that he is inclined to work. The lights came on and lit his head aflame; he leaned over and asked for my number. That last round either puts you right at the edge, or tumbling over it; I warily stepped up and gave him my number, thinking I had actually met an individual who has goals and aspirations.
We went out for drinks, and he selected our bibations with the panache of a gourmet chef meticulously planning a four-course meal. He told me about his dream to attend medical school, and then listened attentively as I explained my profession. After a nice night full of fruity shots and good beer, we called it a night.
A couple weeks had passed, and keeping up with his schedule was taking its toll. I would meet him after he got off work for some late night breakfast, but that was about it. He worked late and slept all day, as anyone would. One night we went to Denny's for a late night meal. Walking into the not-so-romantic diner setting, I looked over at him to find a peculiar look on his face. He started acting really weird, frequently glancing over at a table occupied by a blonde girl and an older, creepy looking biker guy. Finally I asked him what was wrong, and learned it was his ex girlfriend. Ex? What? Like a warm shot of whiskey, the news didn't sit too well in my stomach. I asked him if he wanted to go, and he said YES. We ended up heading to a different restaurant.
For the remainder of the evening he would not shut up about it. It was like the lingering taste of fake apple flavoring when you've already downed your last Appletini for the night. The taste adds false flavor to everything else you put in your mouth. I was exhausted by this endless, one-sided conversation. It was ridiculous, and I actually said at one point, "Let's just stop talking about it". Very few situations are as lame as listening to a guy that you are dating talk about his ex over breakfast at 3 in the morning!!!! And note: If you want to convince me that you are over your ex, don't drench my pancakes with your syrupy tale of regret. He was clearly still shaken up about it, and I decided to not hold it against him.
After that the calls stopped. I wasn't even offended, because I stopped calling him too. I breifly wondered if it was his Ex? Did they get back together? Did I care? Once you make a decision to do something you need to commit to it, especially if you decide to start dating someone else. There is a barside school of thought that will help any drinker decide if they should order one more drink or call it a night: GO BIG OR GO HOME. It applies evenly to breakups too, with a minor alteration: GO BIG OR STAY HOME. Otherwise you end up running into the ex at Denny's and acting like a complete loon.
In the end, when the lights go up and you are searching for your mysteriously missing phone, don't take him up on that number. You will see him again next time, and maybe leaving it at a casual encounter will net you a few free beers. If you give in easily only to find that it doesn't work out, you will be left with no choice but to black list that drinking hole. And most likely the experience will leave you with that nasty "I just took a disgusting shot" face. The taste of regret is terrible, and is the prominent flavor in a glass of Emotionally Detached Social Magnet. So take notice when you've already had too much. Instead of giving him a shot, buy yourself one and enjoy buzz.
The World's Best Cosmo:
In a cocktail shaker, combine with ice:
2 oz vodka
1 oz Rose's lime juice
1 oz triple sec
anywhere from a splash to 2 oz cranberry juice, depending on your preference
Mix well and pour into a glass. Add a slice of lime for garnish and enjoy!
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