Thursday, November 1, 2007

Halloween Part II.

I have become abnormally accustomed to having my plans fall through at the last minute. It doesn't make it suck any less, but I'm used to it. Sometimes, though, things end up falling into place. That's something I'm not used to.

I got into work at four yesterday, as I usually do on Wednesdays. I had made plans with some friends to go to Rocky Horror Picture Show after work. The show started at 9:00, and I was supposed to get off of work at 8:00, which would have given me just enough time to go home and get ready before the show.

Vince and Laura left at five, and Adam is off on Wednesdays, so it was just Mike and me. Around six, a customer came in with a rather unusual request. Apparently, his grandmother had died that afternoon, and he wanted to get a memorial piece for her. The odd thing was, he had burned a piece of her hair, and asked Mike to mix the ashes in with the ink. And all of this occurring on Halloween. Very strange.

Anyway, Mike got to work putting the piece together for the guy, and didn't get him in the chair until almost 7:30. Mind you, the shop closes at 7:45. It was a good sized piece, and Mike didn't finish until about nine. By the time he cleaned up and everything, it was about 20 minutes past. So much for Rocky Horror.

I was pretty cranky after that. I was just going to go home, but I had worn my cowgirl costume to work, and figured I'd get the most out of it. I decided I needed a margarita, and went up to Friday's. I don't do bars. Ever. I figure, if I'm going to drink, it's cheaper to do it at home, and there's less bullshit to deal with. This was an occasion, though. Halloween is a holiday, damn it.

I walked in, and sat down at the bar, second seat from the corner(bars, diner counters, anything like that, that is always my seat - second from the corner), and waited for the bartender. After finishing with a customer, he comes up to me, looking like a computer tech that had been attacked by an axe murderer. What can I say? I have a soft spot for dorky guys. I myself would be considered a nerd(I was the library aide for eight years of school, and I give the boys at work vocabulary words. I am a nerd, and very proud of it). I was looking over the drink menu, and he informed me that happy hour started in 10 minutes, and he'd wait to ring up my drink.

Anyway, the bar was relatively quiet, and the bartender and I wound up talking for a good long while. He told me his name was Ryan. Ryan. That hit me. I'll go into that some other time. I was really enjoying his company. One margarita turned into two, then three. Sooner than I thought, it was 1:00 in the morning. The bar was closing up. I asked Ryan for my tab, and he said, "I've got you covered. Thank you for keeping me company". And then I did something I never do, much less in a bar - I gave him my number. I never do that. Usually, if some guy tries to pick me up, I immediately dismiss him. At most, I'll give the guy a number - usually, an ex-boyfriend's number, or if I'm feeling particularly spiteful, the non-emergency number for the police department(this was a recent discovery, and it works quite well when I have drunks at the pizza place hitting on me).

This guy, though...something about him struck me. That hasn't happened in a very long time. I've met a long procession of losers in my brief time in Florida, and in general in this snipe hunt that is the modern day dating world. I've become very jaded, probably a bit too cynical for my own good. Sooner or later, I know I need to let someone in. The last one I tried to get close to...well, I wanted more out of the relationship than he did. This one might be worth a chance. He even called me when he got done with work to make sure I got home okay. Not to make a date or anything, just to make sure I was alright. That in and of itself...he has potential. I'm going to give this guy a shot. Hopefully, I won't get burned again.

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