Talking to Boys in Bars


Talking to Boys in Bars
Talking to Boys in Bars

I was in a bitchy mood Friday night. Tired from work and annoyed that I take some work things so seriously and so personally.

At dinner with Southern Belle and her coworkers, a male friend of theirs (classmate from Law School) stopped by to say hello while we scarfed down what is probably some of the city’s best spinach and artichoke dip.

The guy was nice and he seemed to be kind of in to one of the other women I was with. When he left, they all started giggling and explained to me that many many years ago, this guy had won a beauty pageant and was “Little Mister [Small Town]” when he was very young.

Now, this would have been funny enough without alcohol involved. But two Chardonnays into the night, it was quite possibly the most ridiculously hysterical thing I’d ever heard.

Flash forward a few hours and we’re sitting in the next bar when Little Mister Small Town himself and his friends (the Future Teacher and the Professor) stroll into our little hole in the wall. I am possibly too tipsy to contain myself, so when the guy (to whom I have not been formally introduced) comes over and offers his hand for a shake, I did something incredibly bitchy.

“Well, I see that we have Little Mister Small Town in our presence,” I said. I meant to be coy, but I think it came across more cheeky and sassy.

He seemed mildly embarrassed. I immediately felt bad for being so rude up front, but my girlfriends were laughing like crazy. (As were his friends.)

The Future Teacher was nice, a year older than I am, and friendly. The Professor was probably a few years older than I am, very nice, and a bit shy. We had a nice conversation about some serious things and how he ended up here. It flowed pretty well, even though I felt at times that I was almost interviewing him. But we joked back and forth and it was nice.

After awhile, Little Mister Small Town seemed to forgive me for my indiscretion and started chatting me up a bit. (Even though I maintain that he seemed very much interested in one of the women I was with.)

“Who told you I was Little Mister Small Town?”

I pointed to the guilty party, the other woman drinking with us.

We talked about our jobs. I asked what kind of law he practiced and where he worked and he pulled out a business card and slid it into my hand.

“Impressive,” I said.

“I’ll keep this in case I break any laws." I hit coy this time, as I tucked the card into my purse.

“You do that.”

We talked some more.

“Honey, I know you probably wouldn’t believe it from looking at me now, but at work I have a secretary and an office with ‘Mister’ in front of my name on the door.”

For some reason, it was sweetly cute and not pompous at all. Perhaps he just seemed so non-threatening and mildly sincere. We chatted some more. I stopped drinking, had several tall glasses of water and then left. I smiled and gave hugs and kisses around before slipping into the night and falling directly into bed.

It was a good night.

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