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Archive for January 14th, 2009

bar

I went to work with J at the club every night down on the island.  He plays from 8pm-1am and I’d hang out at the end of the bar near the piano and talk to the club owner and the waitress until more folks started showing up and then I’d order my double Jack and listen to my guy play and sing and do his show. I have never and could never grow tired of it.

Before certain songs, J would catch my eye and smile and start in…and I knew it was something he knew I liked…or something I’ve made him sing in bed before he got any. (he sometimes has to work for his supper).  

Most nights at the club were mellow, it was the week between Christmas and New Year’s and alot of people were with family and not necessarily out partying in the clubs. But one particular night, for some reason, I don’t know if I was exuding triple extra pheromones or what,(because J and I had been gettin’ it on since I’d arrived) but I kept getting hit on.

It happens on occasion when I am at his gigs, but not too often and not so terribly blatant.  

After this one evening, I said, “I don’t get it, I keep my back to people, I don’t really look around, I don’t invite anyone to come over and talk to me, I stare adoringly at YOU (like I am just a groupie, or worse, A STALKER)  I shut myself out to the rest of the people, and still…”

His response was that sometimes, that is a bigger invitation for a guy to try and get lucky…when a girl is keeping to herself and seems to be playing “hard to get”.

Jesus Christ. Does everyone play these games?

What a big misunderstanding I was on this particular night.

So,  I was sitting alone at the end of the bar near him and this long haired 60 something man walked in and sat down. He knew the bar owner and apparently knew J. He was a regular. He looked over at me and nodded and goes, “hey”. I nodded and turned away back to J, who was playing.

The next thing I knew the guy had moved himself and his drink RIGHT NEXT TO ME…even though my back was completely turned. And he started talking. And he wouldn’t stop. 

The owner was there immediately and goes, “Hey, Jim, meet Movin’, she just flew down to visit her boyfriend, J. YOU know J.”

Jim backed off  a teeny tiny bit, but not much, but I could have kissed the bar owner.  J was watching Jim and Jim says, “Hey J, I’ll keep and eye on her.” And J goes, “And I’ll keep an eye on YOU, Jim!”

Jim continues to talk my ear off and asked me “How long have you and J been together?” as if it mattered or it measured the commitment we had to one another. My answer was, “we’ve been together for a really really really long time. Feels like forever.”

Shortly after, I decide to move over to the piano, on the other side of J. Then this incredibly drunk sailor appears with his friends and sits next to me with what appears to be his millionth martini, because he could barely hold himself upright.

His friend appears and points to the stool on my other side and drunkenly says, “Can I sit there?”

J was at the end of a song and says to me (into the mic), “Hey, why don’t you just move over right next to me?” Because otherwise, I’d be sandwiched between two drunken sailors.  I moved to the end and the guy sat down leaned into my face and started talking nonsense and kept touching me, putting his hand on my leg, until I stood up suddenly to get away. Gah.

J played the introduction to a new song, all the while watching the drunk sailor. Suddenly, into the mic, he says, “THIS ONE’S FOR MY WIFE!” and then leaned over to kiss me.

Drunk sailor moved on to another lady at the bar. I moved to another spot on the OTHER side of J.

A guy over at a table had been winking at me all night (yes, I said “WINKING”),  and walked over , placed his arm around me and says in my ear, “Are you really his wife?”

“I’m his wife,”  I said, switching my grandmother’s ring from my right hand to my left under the table. I hoped that if he looked for proof, he’d be drunk enough to not realize it was a green stone.

Apparently, “wife” works the magic more than “girlfriend”.

At the end of the  night, J and I were walking back to our digs and he goes, “Wow, I’m so sorry about all that. I don’t know WHAT got into people!”

What was cool was that he actually helped me, as did the bar owner. I think the rest of my stay, word got around, because no one bothered me anymore.

Except that lesbian woman on New Year’s eve. She was visiting with her parents and came over and started in, “I noticed you were alone…”

J didn’t feel the need to defend me for some reason on that one, but I wish he had.

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