Bitter Defeat

2:47 a.m.

Well, my best friend Stephen is down here for the weekend and so far it's been grand. We've been hanging out, we all went out to eat, and we wrapped up the evening at the bar of choice: The Tap. I really do like that place. It's got a fantastic atmosphere. And the sweet sweet feminine booty flows like wine.

Speaking of which, I came close to giving one of the waitresses my number. I had been flirting with her every time she came by to take our drinks, and I was of the impression that she was somewhat interested in me based on our conversations.

The first occurred when I went to snag a drink by the front of the bar, where she was picking up an order.

Waitress: I really like your shirt. "Ants in the Pants." That's really funny.
Lee: Heh, thanks. Yeah, I saw this thing and I had to have it. Describes my personality perfectly.
Waitress: You're all excited?
Lee: Yeah, pretty much. I'm an exciting guy.

The second time she came around I was able to get her to tell me about her day. She said she felt like she hadn't slept in forty eight hours because of all the work she'd had to do and the preparations she had to make for her parents visiting her.

Waitress: Guh, I feel absolutely ragged.
Lee: Well, it certainly doesn't show.
Waitress: *smile*

By this time my friends are egging me on, telling me to keep talking to her whenever she comes back by. I had only planned on having a couple of drinks so I didn't have the money to keep on going, but it seemed awkward to try and talk to her without also ordering something, so I borrowed money from Joe. That reminds me, I owe him a dollar.

We made chit-chat about how crowded it was in that bar most nights when she came back, and by that point I decided that I had to find out what her name was, at least.

When she came by again to ask if we needed anything I told her honestly that I was probably done drinking for the evening, but asked if I couldn't know her name.

Waitress: Alicia. *shifts plate to other hand and holds her hand out for me to shake*
Lee: Yeah, hi, I'm Lee. Sorry, you just seem really nice and I was hoping I could call you by your first name and not something like "Miss," you know?
Alicia: Heh, yeah. So do you come to this bar often?
Lee: Only recently - maybe once or twice a week if I can (blatant lie - this is my third time total to come to this bar - but I just didn't want to seem like a non-drinking loser in front of her). I'm surprised I haven't seen you before. Have you worked here long?
Alicia: Yeah, about a year.
Lee: Wow, then I'm really surprised I haven't noticed you before.
Alicia: Heh. Well, hey, I need to get back to the grind. I'll come back to check on you guys later, okay?

I had made up my mind at that point. I had to do something. "Ask for her number," a voice in my head screamed at me. But this just seemed awkward. She was working. At a bar. I doubt I'm the first guy that's flirted with her before, and I'm willing to bet most women that work at bars have personal policies not to just give out their numbers willy-nilly to the drunkards that frequent them. Trying to get her number just seemed sort of crass to me.

Then a more plausible idea hit me. Fuck it, I'll give her my number. And I'll be humble about it. I'd already planned out sort of what I wanted to say. "I don't usually ever do this, but you're seriously so nice, and..." so on and so forth. Basically I wanted to let her know that if she wanted to call me for any reason, even just to talk about her day, that was very cool with me, and if she wanted to throw it away, that was fine, too. I can't ask too much when I'm the one showing more interest.

So I used the pen in my pocket knife (I knew that would come in handy some day) to scribble out my name and number on a napkin, along with a doodle of Mr. Happy - a little figure in a top hat that I draw when I get bored in my classes. And then I looked for her. I couldn't decide if I wanted to wait and see if she'd come back by the table or if I should go after her and find her.

The problem was, I never could find her. I'm not terribly tall, and neither was she, so she blended into the crowds pretty easily. Every time I finally caught a glimpse of her, it was just in time to see her picking up another order or taking one - in other words, she was busy, and I imagine handing her my number when she's trying to work wouldn't score me too many brownie points.

Then finally she started walking by our table. I lifted my head and smiled at her, and....she zipped by without even looking in my direction. Okay. She comes back by and...same thing. This happens like two more times. I begin to get the hint that she isn't going to stop by our table again. She wasn't even looking at me.

I'd be lying if I said my feelings weren't a little hurt.

Finally I could tell that I was just holding everyone up that wanted to leave, and I had to give up. She had once again disappeared into the crowds, and trying to seek her out became a little pipe dream. We left.

If my webcam wasn't screwing up right now, I would show you all my sad face. Oh, well.

We talked about maybe going back to The Tap tomorrow night. If we do and she's working maybe I can wow her with all the minute details I remember from tonight's conversation. And I can wear another flashy shirt with a funny saying on it for laughs. And maybe I'll get a better opportunity to pass my digits on to her. And maybe she doesn't have a boyfriend, and she'll want to go out with me. Then we'll have a fancy dinner and she'll be so impressed with my charisma that she'll have no choice but to fall madly in love with me.

Maybe I'm a Chinese jet pilot.

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