Bar Talk

It was a long day at work. I had enough of my horrible boss, and the mind numbing ignorance of this corporate environment. It was definitely time for a drink. Erik was still online so I quickly sent him an instant message before signing off. “Time for a drink” was all that was needed. I didn’t even wait for a reply I knew it was more than enough to convince him. After all it was Wednesday and a little liquid courage never hurt to help us get through the week. Traffic was light since it was barely 5pm. I made it to our favorite restaurant/bar in just under 10 minutes. “Welcome,” the hostess greeted as I walked through the door. I politely smiled and pointed to the bar as I walked past her. I scanned the bar and didn’t see Erik so I grabbed our usual table and sat down. The bar was empty so it took the waitress less than a minute to make her way to my table. “Long Island?,” she asked. “Of course,” I replied. We were regulars at this place, enough so that the staff knew our orders without asking. I guess on some level I should feel bad about spending that much time in a bar, but screw it this place keeps me sane these days. Erik is usually the one waiting for me. I occupied myself by people watching. I love finding someone at the bar and trying to imagine their back story. For example there is an older man alone at the bar. He had a bad tattoo on his right bar, and a scar on his left forearm. He was dressed in blue jeans and a plain white t-shirt with a gold chain. His hands looked worn and calloused. He was probably in early 60’s. Maybe a vietnam vet? Judging by the visible black grease lodged under his nails he could be a diesel mechanic. He was hispanic so he is probably catholic. Married 20 or more years. Two to three kids. He probably drives a pick up truck that is at least eight to ten years old. So why is he here so early and alone? Let’s see, what could it be. Probably meeting an old war buddy to watch the game, or possibly a mistress. We all have stories and I just find it amazing that each person that I see walk through that door has a millions of preceding events that got them there. We truly are the sums of our experiences. It’s what makes us all unique and I find magic in this fact. I was just about to finish my first drink when I noticed Erik walking in. “What’s up fucker?”, he asked. “Just living the dream,” I said as I laughed. Really I called him out to vent about Ivy. He was good at listening and although he never gave me any profound advice that I didn’t already know it sometimes helped me to verbalize my thoughts. To Ivy was on my mind. Loving her is exhausting at times. At this point I am stuck in a holding pattern. Unable to move on, and unsure as to what my next move should be. I understand if I’ve been very clear about my desire to love her, and she never once gave me a chance to realize this desire. Common sense tells me she does not feel the same and I should just walk away. This I get. I am not in denial, but there is something deep inside me that keeps me here waiting. At this point I have come to realize there are two possibilities. Either I’m completely insane and in total denial, or what I feel is real and despite what she says there is something there. I know no one can help me figure out the mystery except myself. Erik is of the opinion that I should find some other woman to have cheap emotionless sex with to help me move on, but I can not do it. As far as I am concerned no other women exists except for Ivy. She has ruined me and this condition is definitely terminal.

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