coping
by jennifer
i have been mostly sullen since pouring over my ex's wedding gift registry the night before.
my friends have suggested we check a new bar in southeast austin. it is an increasingly gentrified part of town, but we are eager to discover new venues, quaint holes in the wall, to avoid the clamor of downtown sixth street.
the sign on the door admonishes patrons to be considerate of the neighbors. keep voices down.
we walk in to a large room made elegant by dimly lit by glass fixtures. it is furnished simply with white upholstered chairs and low tables glowing softly beneath candles.
the bar at the back of the room seems old fasioned with bottles of liquor lined up in front of a large mirror. we browse the menu and each decide of different drinks with hard liquor bases and sweet accents.
the three of us sit in a corner as hipsters begin to stream into the bar. they are trendy in the way that austinites are, clad in second-hand clothes, choppy and messed hair styles, impossibly casual ways of carrying themselves. as the night wears on, conversations become more loud as does laughter. i notice a long-haired girl stand and fall into a young guy's lap. he seems pleased.
we enjoy our own conversation and our own drinks. share stories about the week. laugh at each other. we decide to leave around 11:30PM because of our early morning commitments.
i want to wait for the line at the bar to become shorter before paying my tab, but it never does. so i move to stand in line and am immediately approached by a dark-haired non-hipster. he asks my name, if i've been there before, where i am going later. his name is alex. i am polite to him, but not exceedingly interested. he introduces me to a friend. we smile politely at one another.
one of alex's friends has a seat at the bar. he turns to me and says, "come here. you can stand here if you want to get the bartender's attention."
i must look at him dubiously because he assures me, "i don't bite."
i move closer.
he does not bite, however, he does engage me in small talk. his name is paul. he is a real estate agent. a little younger than i am. he is mexican american, third generation austinite. when we talk, he looks at me as if i'm the most beautiful girl in the bar. at some moments, mid-conversation, as if distracted by my face, he blurts, "your eyes are incredible," and then, "your smile is amazing."
but he is still playing cool. "we can exchange numbers," he says to me after i pay my tab.
"oh, can we?" i tease.
"yeah, we can."
"i'll tell you what. you can give your number if you want."
he hands me his business card. we talk about the location of his office, how it is close to a great restaurant i've never frequented.
"maybe i'll let you take me there," i tell him.
"if you use that card," he says, "i will." my friends later tease me that i have been given a free meal card.
we say casual good-byes, and i walk out with my girlfriends feeling slightly triumphant.
friday night.
i have been mostly sullen since pouring over my ex's wedding gift registry the night before.
my friends have suggested we check a new bar in southeast austin. it is an increasingly gentrified part of town, but we are eager to discover new venues, quaint holes in the wall, to avoid the clamor of downtown sixth street.
the sign on the door admonishes patrons to be considerate of the neighbors. keep voices down.
we walk in to a large room made elegant by dimly lit by glass fixtures. it is furnished simply with white upholstered chairs and low tables glowing softly beneath candles.
the bar at the back of the room seems old fasioned with bottles of liquor lined up in front of a large mirror. we browse the menu and each decide of different drinks with hard liquor bases and sweet accents.
the three of us sit in a corner as hipsters begin to stream into the bar. they are trendy in the way that austinites are, clad in second-hand clothes, choppy and messed hair styles, impossibly casual ways of carrying themselves. as the night wears on, conversations become more loud as does laughter. i notice a long-haired girl stand and fall into a young guy's lap. he seems pleased.
we enjoy our own conversation and our own drinks. share stories about the week. laugh at each other. we decide to leave around 11:30PM because of our early morning commitments.
i want to wait for the line at the bar to become shorter before paying my tab, but it never does. so i move to stand in line and am immediately approached by a dark-haired non-hipster. he asks my name, if i've been there before, where i am going later. his name is alex. i am polite to him, but not exceedingly interested. he introduces me to a friend. we smile politely at one another.
one of alex's friends has a seat at the bar. he turns to me and says, "come here. you can stand here if you want to get the bartender's attention."
i must look at him dubiously because he assures me, "i don't bite."
i move closer.
he does not bite, however, he does engage me in small talk. his name is paul. he is a real estate agent. a little younger than i am. he is mexican american, third generation austinite. when we talk, he looks at me as if i'm the most beautiful girl in the bar. at some moments, mid-conversation, as if distracted by my face, he blurts, "your eyes are incredible," and then, "your smile is amazing."
but he is still playing cool. "we can exchange numbers," he says to me after i pay my tab.
"oh, can we?" i tease.
"yeah, we can."
"i'll tell you what. you can give your number if you want."
he hands me his business card. we talk about the location of his office, how it is close to a great restaurant i've never frequented.
"maybe i'll let you take me there," i tell him.
"if you use that card," he says, "i will." my friends later tease me that i have been given a free meal card.
we say casual good-byes, and i walk out with my girlfriends feeling slightly triumphant.
posted @ 5:27 PM
0 Comments:
Post a Comment
<< Home