April 3, 2010

• Romantic

  The single woman at the bar always looks sexy and mysterious on tv. I just feel like a lonely loser. Even the bartender, whose job is to chat up customers for tips, doesn't bother knocking on the silent walls enclosing me.
  
  

  “You're too passive, always waiting for other people to fall in love with you without you putting in any effort. Why can't you ask someone out?” My best friend Ellie, already engaged to her high school sweetheart, has always helped out where she thought she could.
  
  

  “I don't know. Call me a romantic, but I can't help believing in fate. One day, Mr. Right will make his way into my life, and there's nothing I can do to get him here sooner or later.”
  
  

  “Well, what if your fate is to bump into him, not have him bump into you?”
  
  

  “I'm old fashioned, so the guy has to make the first move.” Ellie could only roll her eyes. She doesn't know how pitiful I really feel, having to defend my singleness with stubborn beliefs. She doesn't know how I envy her and wish that I did have the confidence to pursue love. If I thought I could find him by dating around, I would have weekly quotas.
  
  

  I tried anyway. The next day, I asked a guy from work to go on a date with me to see a band perform live at this bar. He agreed, but he didn't come. I knew something like this would happen, which is why I didn't tell Ellie.
  
  

  A couple walks up to the bartender several seats to my left. He looks classy with salt and pepper hair. She looks young enough to be his daughter but old enough to give consent at least. He held her close with an arm around her shoulder. She was quite pretty and carried such self-assurance to match the man’s dignity.
  
  

  “Two gin and tonic,” the man said, laying down a twenty. The woman didn't say anything but sat down when the man did. After the bartender placed the drinks in front of them, the woman kept an unflinching straight face, occasionally looking down to check her phone. Her drink remained untouched.
  
  

  I studied them curiously, looking from the man to the woman. I stared at them as if staring long enough would give me the revelation I needed to figure out their relationship. Could this man be taking advantage of this young woman? Blackmail? Prostitution? Or perhaps going to bars was the new father-daughter bonding activity of the week?
  
  

  Out of the blue, the man turned his head and kissed the top of the woman's head. Immediately, the slight gesture broke her stone set face into a sweet smile, and she turned towards him to share her warmth.
  
  

  At that moment, the band struck up their first chord and set the entire bar in motion. People interrupted their own conversations to point to the stage and edge closer. It also tore my attention away from the couple so that I could join the crowd gathering before the stage.
  
  

  Before long, the bar was a genuine rock concert, complete with excited epileptics reacting to the loud music and flashing lights. I had the misfortune of standing by a group of particularly violent dancers and incurred some bruises to the arm, some kicks to my legs and some heavy footprints on my shoes before I could push past the tightly packed bodies around me to a safer zone further behind them.
  
  

  From there, I noticed two men behind where I stood before with their arms held horizontally before them. Side by side, the men formed a tiny phalanx in the middle of the frenzy. I almost didn't notice that each of their other arms held a woman. They were protecting their girlfriends from getting hurt by the crashing bodies.
  
  

  I smiled at their backs, silently applauding their gallantry, but my heels were beginning to hurt. I usually wear sneakers or comfortable pumps, but I wore stilettos today on the off chance that my date would show up. I decided I had enough contact with sweaty skin for one night and wanted to go home. Maybe I could rent a Disney movie and order some take out. First, one last drink.
  
  

  After much pushing and shoving and hand waving to indicate that I wanted to get out, I finally made it to the bar. I ordered a drink but when I tried to pay, a man next to me interrupted and paid for me.
  

  “Hi,” he said, smiling. “What's a sweet girl like you doing here all by yourself?”

  “Oh, no. I really like this band, but my friends were busy.” I lied.

  “Well, I'm not busy. Want to keep each other company?”

  I turned to get a good look at the first man to ever hit on me at a bar. He was short, probably about as tall as me. He dressed plainly, as the average man would dress when going to the bar. His face wrinkled around the eyes and mouth with the warm look of someone who wrinkles from smiling too much. name="Title" content=""> name="Keywords" content=""> http-equiv="Content-Type" content="text/html; charset=utf-8"> name="ProgId" content="Word.Document"> name="Generator" content="Microsoft Word 2008"> name="Originator" content="Microsoft Word 2008">
  

  His appearance rated average at best, and this was in the dark. Lawyer? Impossible. Doctor? Not a chance. Business executive? Not with his stature. CPA? Maybe.
  
  

  He seemed sweet and harmless, but did I really want to get picked up at a bar? I doubt Prince Charming falls in love at bars. The best thing to expect is probably a drunken trip to his place following with fantasizing the next few days about a call that would never come. How romantic. I wonder what Ellie would say.
  
  

  “Sorry, but I have to get home early.”

  “Alright honey, you have a nice one.”
  

  He turned back to his drink and I downed mine before walking out the door.
  

  Immediately, I felt the difference in air density outside. The stillness chilled my bones after bathing in a jacuzzi of pumping noise and vibrating air and crashing bodies for so long. Even without the bass beating incessantly at my body anymore, my muscles continued throbbing as they do after getting a bad massage. Getting used to being in a storm makes calmness all of a sudden a shock. Inside, the bass takes over the air, the ground, the senses, the body. Everything beats to its blows. Outside, the world was still and quiet, waiting for the motion and noise to break out from the nothingness.

  Away from the noise and people, I became aware of a beating that continued to thump my body. It was a meek rhythm coming from my chest.

  • 4:31 pm
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