The Abstinent

"What's new Normie?"

"Terrorists, Sam. They've taken over my stomach and they're demanding beer."

I have been single for five years. The first two were voluntary. I had just gotten out of a tumultuous relationship, that both exhausted me, and made me realize the only relationship worth having is a special one. The past three years I have bounced around with different men, and have been infatuated with all of them for an elongated amount of time. My friends make fun of my “crushing,” because it becomes a full-fledged sport or hobby that I have to win at every challenge. The problem is, I very rarely win, and end up walking away from the situation with my tail between my legs. It would make sense if I one day decided to stop acting in this obsessive, over-analyzing, loving, angry, manipulative, endearing (only to myself) way, however, I am a person of pattern. And I believe that if any person should show a pattern, they most likely will follow that pattern until it is forced into breaking or they die.

I decided to write this blog about going out and attempting to give any lame-ass I see a chance. People call me picky, that I have a type, and that I will never allow myself to be happy. But don’t most people know what they want, and go after it? And it has always made me physically nauseous to look at couples that are just with each other so they do not have to be alone, or because they were waiting for someone better to come along. What’s the use? What’s the point? But I suppose I am getting older, and while I am still in my “younger” years I should take advantage of being the girl that wears only a tight skirt and pasties to the bar, and who inevitably goes home with whoever or whatever is left at last call.

I don’t know about all that. But for people that think I don’t put myself out there, and try new things, or that I am unwilling to give any man a chance. You asked for it, and here’s to you.

Location: Fast Eddies Bar and Grille (Might have added the Bar and Grille to make it sound nicer than it actually is, it is a dive billiard pool hall across the street from my work)

Time: 12:00 AM. Around this time is normally when any man with any shred of decency has already left. I would say most likely home to their wife or girlfriend.

Situation: I arrive with my friends, Mel, a girl that bartends where I work, and my friend, Webster, a cook from our work, and we sit at the bar. We sit for a long time chitchatting about past failed relationships, and how Web is a nice guy and deserves a nice girl. This is a common theme when the three of us go to the bar together, and if Mel and I are drinking wine, we most likely end up crying. It is kind of sad that nice guys always finish last, but not sad enough that I am willing to be going home with Webster or probably any nice guy tonight. I think that’s why we were crying, why can’t we just like the nice guy? Why is it always the disgruntled loner who I know I will never make completely happy? Anyway, I digress.

The end of the night is nearing, and it seems my newfound courage is coming up with not even one result. Just as I begin to think about this, a man stumbles into my barstool, and then into my face. He keeps his entire body half onto my barstool, and half on the ground. He tells us his name is Andrew, and continues to close talk to me the remainder of the time we are there. At first he talks to everyone but me, even though his facial stubble is touching my face. He greets Mel, tries to have a weird exchange with Web, and then finally turns to me.

Andrew (overtly drunk, bad breathed, slightly good-looking but this is only casually observed and then intentionally overlooked because I notice he is there alone): “I hate sex.”

Kate: “Excuse me? Who hates sex?”

Mel: “Kate loves sex, don’t you? You should tell him how much you love it.”

Kate: “Mel that is really unnecessary, and you are being such a bitch right now.”

Andrew: “You like to have sex? I guess I do too. But only without a condom, no way else, that’s the good shit.”

Kate: “Wow, that’s a good call. I bet you’re right.”

Mel: “Hey Andrew, do you have a ride home? I bet Kate would be willing to give you a ride.”

Kate: “You are so inappropriate. I am not even going your way, I’m sorry.”

Andrew: “I didn’t even tell you where I live.”

Kate: “I’m not going that way. I just know.”

Web: “Kate, you don’t have to drive me home, you can just take Andrew here.”

Kate: “You are both ridiculous. Nice meeting you Andrew, I think your cab is here.”

By some stroke of luck, they had cut him off, called him a cab, and it was outside waiting for him. Until next time Andrew.