I did indeed sit alone at the Buckeye last night. And you know, Monday's not a good night. Or maybe I picked the wrong bar. Or maybe I've lost it.
In a bold, anti-social move, I sat at the far end of the bar and buried myself in my notebook. Here's what we have:
6:13pm: Why is this Tahoe douchebag wearing swim trunks to the Buckeye? Save it for the Delta, state school.
6:21pm: My cell phone should be taken away from me right now. I'm bored and want to send dicey text messages.
6:25pm: This was a bad idea.
6:33pm: What is this, family night?
6:34pm: This is not a $11 glass of wine. This is a $5 glass of wine.
6:41pm: Maybe Amanda was wrong about my outfit. And state school is trying to discuss with the bartender what kind of wine goes with Swiss Chard. Jesus. Just order the Amstel. You know you want to.
6:46pm: Maybe I'm better alone at hotel bars. Because these townies are havin' none of me.
6:48pm: I could be watching Forensic Files right now. With those mixed field greens I have leftover and those cherry tomatoes that have like, one more day.
6:52pm: Maybe I should've gone to Noonans?
6:59pm: Okay, I'm officially depressed. Well played, society.
I handed the valet my card. "Shitty silver Honda Civic with dents, please."
"Did you have fun?"
"I think I've lost it."
He stared at me confused. And you know, rightfully so.
"Nevermind." I handed him $5 for parking my car for an hour and went home. No looks. Not one. Not two. I threw on sweatpants and ate those tomatoes while watching some creepy documentary about Roman Polanski.
But don't lose faith in me just yet.
My friend is working at a wine bar tonight. I'll come by and say hi and try my looks out on her...