Warm Drinks

I ended up at this bar one night. I was on some stupid “mind cleansing” vacation that I take every so often. Anyway, I think I was in Washington, Pennsylvania coming from Pittsburgh. This place was a shit hole (the city…well, the bar too). I met this woman in Radio Shack that afternoon, buying some batteries for my radio. She worked there, and after she took my “personal information”, she asked what I was doing in Pennsylvania. This was back when Radio Shack would take all your information every time you went in there. I lied and told her I worked for some computer company, and was on business in Pittsburgh, and swinging through here for the night, before heading up to Niagra Falls for some more “business”. After some small talk she mentioned there was a bar she knew of we could meet in when she got off work at 8 o’clock. I didn’t think she was that interesting to begin with, or that attractive, but she intrigued me somehow. I think I’ve met tons of these women while traveling. Just average looking women, with average personalities who are lonely, and looking to talk to someone new. It’s funny because when I’m home I have no desire to meet new people. I guess because I simply said “anything exciting to do around here?” she decided to become a host or perhaps a whore.

I guess she was not attractive at all in retrospect. She was about five feet tall, dumpy looking, and her face seemed worn, and old. I’d guess she was about forty-five years old (I was twenty-six). S My girlfriend at the time was twenty-two years old, and was extremely attractive, and intelligent; so I have no clue what the hell I was doing. I’ve always been attracted to short women, but this was the first time I discovered I was also attracted to women who looked like they could be my aunt.
I showed up at the bar at about seven-fifteen, which was aptly called “The Hole in the Wall”. I wanted to get a feel for the place. It was a Tuesday night and there were five men in the bar, one was with a woman. I checked them all out. At the bar there was one guy alone. He appeared to be some sort of construction guy in his early fifties, he was drinking Michelob, and smoking Merit ultra lights. Two seats down from him were two guys who looked like they were in their late twenties/early thirties. These two looked a little more white collar than the Michelob man, but they still looked as if they were hardened type dudes. Sitting at a booth was a man in his forties who looked like a used car salesman, complete with yellow suit, and a mustache. The woman he was sitting with was hideous. Bright red lipstick, red dress, red nylons, black shoes, long wavy brown hair that was fried dry, big tits, the whole “used car salesmen dream girl” in one package. She would definitely fuck this guy by the end of the night, there was no doubt about it. I decided to sit in the booth behind them. My girlfriend was most likely on her dinner break at work, I pictured her in her silly uniform she has to wear there. I love her.

I made eye contact with the used car guy and we both kind of nodded. I needed to see what he was drinking, so after the nod I scanned their table as I removed my jacket and hung it on the hook between our tables. It was a yellow drink so I assumed is was whiskey based most likely, she had a similar drink, but the glass was almost empty. The ashtray was littered with those thin brown cigarettes. They were here for a while. I ordered a Southern Comfort on the rocks from the waitress who was very friendly.
Apparently the used car guy was the ex-boyfriend of the woman he was sitting with, and it sounded like he fucked up somehow, and was trying to patch things up. She seemed pretty calm, and it seemed like it might have been a drug issue, not an infidelity issue. Oh well, I was sure she’d still end up fucking the guy anyway.

My “date” arrived at eight-thirty sharp and looked relatively good. I think I had had three drinks already, so this may have been a factor as well. She told me her district manager had come in and was complaining about some displays or something. I think I was looking at her body, and not listening while she was taking off her jacket, and telling me the story at the same time. I could care less about how displays are supposed to be set up in Radio Shack. She seemed generally happy, and seemed like this was a big deal to her to be with someone she had only talked to for about ten minutes. She sat down finally and I asked her what she was drinking. She said she had a rough weekend, and wanted to get drunk. I ordered her the same thing I was drinking. We got right to drinking. I think my girlfriend usually starts closing the store up at eight-thirty or so. Sometimes I’ll arrive at eight-forty-five and wait for her.

My girlfriend was home by now I was thinking to myself as I polished off my tenth drink of the night. I was all of a sudden overwhelmed with guilt as this woman was talking to me, and I was not paying attention. Guilt that I was “using” this woman, and guilt that I had just spoken to my girlfriend the morning of this meeting. Simon and Garfunkel came over the jukebox: “….do it and doo doo, feelin’ groovy…”. To escape the tortures of this guilt I thought I had rid myself of when my parents took me out of Catholic school at a young age, I suggested we leave, and get some coffee instead. Perplexed, she agreed. We left the bar, and the used car guy was still sitting there, while his date in red was on the pay phone yelling at some guy. I smelled her delicious perfume once more as we walked by her on the way out.

I had rented this cheap American car which seemed as if it would die any day now…this is the car her and I got into. She had walked over from work. She told me she knew of a diner down the street, and would direct me there. As we drove she put her hand on my knee and looked at me in ‘that way”, I smiled and put the radio on. I could barely drive, and frankly, she should have driven as she had significantly less drinks in her than I did.

I got in an argument a month before I left with a friend over which was better, Abbey Road, or “The White Album”. I’m pretty sure we were in agreement that they were both good in their own ways, but Abbey Road had more of a romantic slant to it, “The White Album” was classic, but a lot to swallow if not in the right mood. It was now I realized we were right. The local rock station was playing side one of Abbey Road, we tuned in at the beginning of “Something”, my favorite Beatles song. I don’t think there’s a more beautiful song out there. I remember the first time my girlfriend and I broke up, about a year later, we got back together, and were listening to the Beatles the night we “got back together”

She told me we should stop by my hotel before we went there, she needed to use the ladies room, and hated public restrooms. I said this would be okay, and my heart started beating a lot faster. I pulled into the parking lot, right in front of the room. I lay on the bed waiting for her to come out, as the television was playing a movie I wasn’t that familiar with. I think Wesley Snipes was in it, and something happened at the White House. She was in there for about ten minutes it seemed, although I was a bit drunk, so it could have been longer. I was looking around the room at all of the shit I had brought in from the car and thought of how I needed to get more organized when I get home. That is exactly what I need to do FIRST.
She emerged from the bathroom, and announced she was feeling a bit dizzy, and would like to hang out here for a while. I agreed as she plopped down on the bed. I was laying with my back against the back of the bed, and she was on her stomach, she put her arm around my stomach, and started lightly brushing my side with her hand. I changed the channel to Tom Snyder, he was interviewing Sandra Bullock. I always though my girlfriend looked a little like Sandra Bullock, Speed era Bullock that is. I mean my girlfriend isn’t as thin as Sandra, but has almost the same facial features. She was probably long asleep at this point, it was past one in the morning, and she always went to bed before midnight. At about three in the morning my “date” finally passed out. In a drunken haze earlier, she told me she had not had sex in over two years. I found this hard to believe, but she seemed okay. I told her it had been about a month for me, which was true. I guess I had plans to change that earlier in the night, but as Tom Snyder and Sandra Bullock lulled me to sleep I had different plans.
I think I left the hotel at five-thirty in the morning. I made the least amount of sound possible as I moved all of my stuff out. I paid the front desk, and left. I have no idea when my “date” woke up.

I arrived home nine hours later somehow and was greeted by five new messages on my machine from my girlfriend, she needed to talk to me apparently as soon as I got in she explained. I wasn’t supposed to be home for one more day, so I gave her a surprise ring...

At nine o’ clock the previous night my girlfriend left work with her co-worker who I always thought had some sort of crush on her, but seemed pretty harmless. They then went to his place to drink with some friends. People left his apartment around one in the morning. She stayed there. She got home nine hours after that.