Chapter 1 At Bar

Chapter 1

The neon sign flickers above the entrance, casting a dim red glow over the sidewalk. I hesitate for a moment before stepping inside, letting the familiar scent of alcohol and aged wood settle over me. It's been one of those days when the weight of life feels heavier than usual. I just need a drink.

Sliding onto a barstool, I nod at the bartender. She's young, probably mid-twenties, with a practiced smile as she sets down my usual-Diet Coke and Bacardi.

"Happy Valentine's," she says in passing, her tone light, almost routine.

"Happy Valentine's," I reply to the bartender as she said it to me when putting down my Diet Coke and Bacardi drink. I try to smile at her after saying this, but as she caught me off guard in saying it, I know my smile looks more like I have a toothache.

The young bartender doesn't seem to notice as she walks off to help someone else, allowing me to pull my drink close to me as I sit at the bar. I'm sure she said the greeting in hopes of a higher tip as it is a young twenty-something giving a brief interaction to a single forty-two-year-old. But hey, she could be genuine.

This is a dive bar, plain and simple. A bar that people go to and drink instead of playing trivia, singing or whatever else. The owners have tried to shred the dive bar vibe by throwing money at it, but nothing can remove the vibe it was born with.

I take a sip of my drink, tasting the familiar taste of my signature drink. I know I happen to be the only guy drinking a mixed drink as everyone else has a beer, but that's normal. For whatever reason the universe has, I'll always stand out somehow. At the moment I stand out not just because of my drink but because I'm not a country sort of fellow like most of the people here.

Scanning the bar, I see that it is made up of who you would expect tonight; couples. Loads of couples, hanging off each other, drinking and trying to have a good time. I even spot a few that are arguing, but that doesn't mean they aren't having a good time. Lots of people think fighting is how you show love.

Off in a corner I spot a couple that don't seem to be able to wait until they get home for their love making. While they think the pool table is hiding them, a woman leans back in a chair looking very blissful as her man stands over her, lifts her shirt and happily (and sloppily) sucks on her breasts.

Like I said, this place isn't able to dust off the dive bar vibe it was born with. I'm sure later, once everyone gets liquored up, there'll be a fight, and probably a few "meetings" in the bathrooms.

I take in a deep breath and let out a silent sigh as I sit at the bar, not wanting to draw attention to myself. On purpose, I blend in with the furniture, not wanting people to notice I'm here alone. Otherwise, it would be too easy to become the single creepy pervert looking at all the couples. The guy you walk around because you are scared he'll try to talk to you.

When I stopped here to get a drink, I didn't know it was Valentine's Day. I just wanted a drink. A drink to make the day more bearable. Well, that's a lie. I did know it was Valentine's, as it had been thrust in my face all day long, but I hadn't considered it when I stopped. I thought it would be like the dozens of other times I've stopped after work.

A part of me wants to down my drink to get the hell out of here. And on the way out I'll tell the guy sucking the tit that he's sucking a boob, not attacking a monster as he's gotten so aggressive that it doesn't look pleasurable for the woman.

But something inside of me doesn't let me leave. I'm not sure why either. Maybe that hopeful part of me thinks I'll meet someone tonight, which is laughable. I am old enough to know how I am and know that wouldn't happen.

Some people are born friendly and approachable. They light up a room and people love to talk with them. That's not me. I'm shy and quiet around strangers. I really wish I wasn't, but that is how I am. I wouldn't say I'm socially awkward, but I can be. Striking up conversations with strangers isn't something I'm good at, rather they be male or female.

Also, this may mark me as an asshole, but I doubt I would get along with any of the women in here. Again, I'm not country, which most appear to be. Most would call me a geek/nerd, which I admit that I am, proudly.

"You don't get it man, you just don't get it," a man across the bar says emotionally to his friend. He doesn't say this very loud, but it still sticks out because the man is crying.

Catching my attention, I watch the scene while looking at my drink, not wanting to be obvious about spying. The crying man who looks to be in late twenties, is wearing a blue shirt with his name sewed in on the right side of his chest. From the look of him and his clothes, I would guess he works as a skilled laborer, like the person that puts tires on cars at Discount Tire or maybe a custodian.

"It's alright man, chill," the man's friend says, patting him on the back. From the look of his friend, he seems embarrassed that his friend is crying. He keeps glancing around as if his friend's crying is chasing away all the women.

"She's going to leave me, man. She's going to fucking leave me," the man declares, fighting to hold back his tears. There's no doubt he really believes this. And it's hard not to feel for the guy as by the way he cries he doesn't do it often.

Sipping my drink I think of my girlfriend, rather my last girlfriend. We broke up about four weeks ago. Or to say correctly, she broke up with me. Broke up with me in a rather cruel and fucked up way if I am being honest.

Our relationship was always sort of strange. Even the way it started it was strange. I had just gotten a divorce and she came out of the woodwork wanting to be "my friend." She wanted to go out almost immediately, but I knew it was a bad idea as I was dealing with a lot thanks to the damn divorce. So I asked her out with the condition it would be in three months to give me time to work on myself.