INT. SHOT / NIGHT TIME - BAR
So there I am. Boozing away and throwing caution to the wind again. Work awaits the next day, but I'm 5 beers into it already. I'd give up my hard earned B.A. to enhance this experience just a little bit more. I feel like Freddy Mercury descending on Wembley on a warm summer's kick ass rock-fest.(with the moustache)
A band, Flu, is playing with heavy fire power. Vocals, Bass, Keyboards, Drums and two fine Brass Cats. There's oldie rock, popular Jazz, plain pop, Jazzy renditions of enduring Turkish songs and anything else you can shake an auricle at. I'm so into it I do not realize for a while that the drop-dead-gorgeous-possibly-future-mother-of-my-college-ditching-brats is sporadically givin' me the eye. "Hi my name is..." nah!, "Don't I...?", "Do you come here oft...", yeah right! (this actually pops out no matter how refined you are). Ok, music's good, I can bide my time.
I've seen her before and she'd stood out primarily because of her extra inches (height) and straight sexy auburn fur. Hour after hour, drink after drink this pantomime continues, as it does. There is just too much damn eye tag goin' on for doubt to hang around. Even my personal invisible bastard is screamin' his medley in my ear: "Dude you've been down lately. Go talk to her. I promise, no trippin' up, no spilling yer beer, and especially no Durex's spilling out of your wallet as you exchange cell numbers. Tonight's on the house, go get some suppository sunshine so I can have some work cut out for me... Enjoy!" *smile*.
I realize that it's about that time when you haven't the faintest excuse to chicken out. Unless(!) you want to keep the beautiful, dizzying anticipation of it all, alive. I know, Thrill of the Chase is a dead pastime. With people porking each other on eye contact, desensitization is of the essence. I like the ritual. Shoot me.
To cut a stupid daylog detailing my anxieties short, I flunked, she went off with the singer. Yes, I'm a 26 year old Patent and Trademark Specialist with plenty of conquests under my belt, yet I still blush and flush in such situations. Aren't I cute?
Not any more Kid.
So I'm doing the done thing tonight. I'm going off to the same bar like the pathetic farty I am.