8/4/12

Friday the 3rd. Nine O'clock.

Top secret love-avoiding strategies put into motion with sub-par success rates.

It is unfortunate how dive bars attract tall, muscular, tattooed men looking for something different.  I am always something different.

If i blindfold my heart and stab into it one pointy stick and spin it around like a top on a table, when it stops will it point to my one true love?

Will i want him any more because my heart has landed on him at random, and i have not? Yet...

Will i ever want anyone enough to take him when he wants me?

Will i ever want him more than the fear of having him...or being had...


Tonight, deep in thought, lost in my work at the bar, i will ignore the advances of several drunken strangers - politely, so as to continue the appropriating of tips and/or free drinks. I will bring a handkerchief to delicately swipe their sloppy kisses off my cheek (note to self - wash face immediately upon returning home). As the night rolls on, as the alcohol collects in their bloodstreams and alters their perceptions, i will watch them as a modern anthropologist working on a new documentary series. I will take notes. I will gather information for:

Today's Human After Hours
Part One: Dive Bar Regulars

And i will use it for my betterment.
But mostly, i will use it for our entertainment.

And we will laugh.

And i will forget everything that i am not.