Last minute Friyay Tinder drink

Keep on keeping on girlfriend.

Friday, 11:30 p.m.

So as I’ve written before Friday nights are when I feel I should be partying and have a grand time with dranks. I don’t care to be home all the other nights but Friday hits me hard. Happened again this week. I had asked a couple of girlfriends to go to a concert with me if I could get last minute cheap tickets and neither texted me back. I was proud of myself for telling them that this bothered me and they both apologized. I would normally just think I wasn’t as interesting as what they chose to do or something like that. I’m working on that.

I took a nap and decided I’m too broke to be going to a concert. So broke. So very broke. I was kind of teary that I was alone and a sad sack of shit. And poor.

I did have have enough moolah to take myself down to a local bar. I went in and the bar was full except one seat squished between two dudes. I was hesitating and he asked what was up and pushed the seat out so I sat. He was drunk and saying that weirdos in New York always came at him, a naked one recently or something. I was uncomfortable but not showing it. Not about the story but just him in general. I ordered a cider and then realized my wallet was in the place in the pocket of the jacket I had just changed out of. Great.

I said I’d go get my card, explained to the bartender I’d changed jackets. I hadn’t put my lips on the can but he’d opened it already. He nodded. I left.

And didn’t come back. I didn’t want to. It’s okay. Someone got a free cider.

Instead I went to another place after I got my card. I sat at the bar, felt teary again and texted my girlfriend, the 24-year-old recently single hottie. She said lean into it. It was okay to be sad sometimes. The same thing I’d told her the week before. The things we know but have to hear from each other. I then consumed a huge cheeseburger and felt better.

I went back home and was writing about my sore bungholio and a message came in from The Mail Man on Tinder. The Mail Man is cute (yes I know it should be mailman; I don’t want to do it that way for his name.)

MM has a funny line about putting it in your box on his profile and he looked interesting, as in pretty cute. I liked that he messaged me more than two words AND get this, he asked me to get a coffee or drink? No way. He didn’t message one or two words and then ghost me?

I said I’d love to. Then he actually asked to meet that night. Right? As I said above I was home writing so I thought what the hell? Now this is a huge change from my old life. It was 8 p.m. ya’lls. I was ensconced in a warm loft with comfies on and no bra.

Bitch I put on my cute jeans and push-up bra and left my place to DRIVE to a dive bar to meet him. I’m proud of myself.

I beat him there and got a whiskey diet, three fucking dollars, what a great place! It was so adorable; I loved it. It was stuck in 1972, my favorite kind of bar. There was a birthday party with a bunch of middle-aged people; one dude was actually wearing the awkward dollar store hat. Love. Dart boards everywhere, vinyl bench running all the way around the side. Now this is important because this is his very favorite bar in all of this city. That says a lot to me. We are simpatico on what a good bar consists of.

(Just now had to stop and peer at a sexy lookin’ older dude on the sidewalk. He is showing a dude a car. Alas he has a ring. Moving on now.)

He gets there and is… different. Just really different than the men around here. Reserved I guess? I’ve had enough rejection from the last few weeks that I’m less physically outgoing but just as talkative. Fuck that. I’m gonna touch people if I feel like it. I like it. If they don’t, cool, I will move along to someone who wants to be touched.

So. He’s telling me a story and says he doesn’t want it to be a red flag. It worried him I could tell but he still told it. It involved brass knuckles. Twas an awesome story.

I kept trying to draw him out. It seemed he wasn’t relaxed and was nervous. We are both working on open mic stuff so we talked about that. He bought a place recently; talked about that and about why I love living downtown so much. We bonded over our hatred of the asshole white privileged people of this city we live in, the ones who think they live in the “city” because they are in a great old neighborhood but they drive to the burbs to do all their shopping and to see mommy and daddy.

He had had a 10-hour day and had to work the next morning but made time for this drink. I sensed a kindred soul lol.

I told him about Baby Ginger and he was actually shocked. Then he said I should’ve led him on a bit and told him to meet me in the most expensive hotel in the city and then not show. Funny. But I wouldn’t do that as it is too scary to provoke people. It’s scary enough being a woman.

A guy walked over and put his darts on the bar to return them. MM got this twinkly mischievous look on his face and got one of them. He then got the attention of the guy at the end of the bar to lower his head a bit and he threw the dart on the board when the players weren’t looking. I was laughing so much. They didn’t notice until they were taking the darts down and were just bumfuddled as to where it came from. Crack me up! The best part was the look on his face, which I tried to tell him and he thought I was weird I think. I am though. That’s okay. It ‘s a writer thing I think.

It was late now, 11:00, so we headed out to the sidewalk. I gave him my number and we hugged goodbye. I texted and said how much fun I had and mocked his Tinder song, a weird country hiphop situation. He texted back that he had a fun/nice time (yes just like that fun/nice.) He said the song was not really his shtick (yes shtick) but thought it fitting for the area then that he should prolly change it as it was for the summer. (Yes prolly.) I ain’t judgin’ just look at this blog. I had a friend who told me she couldn’t handle that I put ladeeeeee on my bio so I changed it. But it doesn’t matter. It matters if you don’t know the difference but not to do it for shits and grins.

I ain’t the grammar police beeshes.

Hoping he will text but I’m booked back to back to back through the next eight days. However I’m going out with friends to a bar tonight and would invite him if he asks to hang out. Why not?

Photo by Jaymantri on

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