HOME | POLITICS | SPORTS | LIFE | SCI/TECH | OPEDS | HELPFUL TIPS
|
 Holly Winter Living The Life Of Holly May 11, 2003 “Still serving?” Debbie asked, as we considered staying. “Anything for you.” Tony charmed. “Bar menu ok?” “Perfect.” We agreed as we perched on stools and leaned over the glowing red bar. John was debating. “Burger, or mac and cheese?” Tony could solve any problem, especially on a slow Monday night. “How about a side of mac and cheese?” Debbie and I decided to share a rare steak dinner. Tony turned to her. “How are things with your boyfriend?” “Excuse me?” She asked, more than a little put off. Did she know him? “Last time you were in here, I believe you mentioned that he was neglecting you, just a bit.” She stared at him. “I told you that?” He shook his head smugly. “Yes. You were sitting over there.” He pointed to the end of the bar. She blinked her eyes very slowly, to see if she recognized him. Did he know her boyfriend? Was this a joke? She gave him a slow, half smile. “Well. Things are much better, thanks so much.” “Good.” He said. He prepped some wine glasses and started pouring, something expensive and red. I know. It was my chance to learn about wine. But. I wanted water. “At least get bottled water.” Debbie insisted. Yeah. No. These people don’t understand what it’s like to not get a paycheck during medical leave. I smiled at Tony. “Tap water works for me.” He nodded and let the chemicals flow freely before he filled my glass. Debbie’s book signing was a few days away. We were handing out invitations to people who might have an opening to fill in their social calendar. Some women at the end of the bar were yoga talking, which was evident by their erratic flailing arm movements and crossed legs. “Debbie. You’re the yoga expert.” I whispered. “Is that yoga?” Debbie got up, introduced herself and brought them an invitation to her book signing. “I’ll be discussing my yoga book at the Tattered Cover book store on Thursday night. I would love for you to be there.” She said, invitingly. “Oh. Thanks. How interesting.” They said. Well. After they left, the invitation remained on the bar. Who knows. Maybe that wasn’t yoga they were practicing. I mean. It could have been really bad karate. I returned the shiny invitation to the stack. “How are things with you and Darlin-man? She asked, divvying up our dinner. “Over. Except that he sent me an e-mail saying he missed me, he would never find anyone like me again and that he wanted to talk.” I was impressed with the potatoes. “Hey. What’s in these? Aren’t they incredible?” “A lot of garlic. I think there must be cream. Well? What are you going to do?” “I don’t know. How can I date someone who ran like that? Apathy scares me.” “You kidding? My boyfriend is the King of apathy. I’m sure that Darlin-man is way more darling than my boyfriend.” She joked, scooping up squash. I’ve never seen squash like this. How do you think they made it?” Ok. Was I the only one that noticed that Tony was intensely scrubbing the clean counter right in front of us? Couldn’t he at least pretend he was bartending? He caught my vibe. “Holly. Never give up on men. Keep asking questions.” He moved down the bar to fill drink orders. Oh. Was THAT his job? “I’ll try to remember that.” I called after him, wondering if he would expect a darlin-man update every time I came into this place. Oh. I could teach him not to listen in, uninvited. I could inundate him with more information than his little brain could ever compute. I know. I am the queen of eavesdropping. It’s awesome getting to listen in on people. But. It is bad manners to ASK about it later. And even WORSE to offer unwanted advice. Oh. No tip for him tonight. He got to listen. That’s it. John joined us. “What are you questioning?” “Men.” Debbie said. “Oh. That.” He sympathized. I summed it up. “Darlin-man left. I told him fine, no contact. Now he has changed his mind and wants to talk.” I said. Isn’t it amazing how easily the story flows when you have told it a few times? “Well?” John asked. “He was one of the favorites of all the men I’ve dated.” I said, sadly. “No way.” John said. “That’s unbelievable.” Debbie tensed. “Why aren’t you talking to him tonight? Why are you here with us? This is crazy. The man says that he needs to talk to you, and you say maybe?” “When he says he wants to talk, I don’t think that he has any clue what the conversation is going to be about.” I said. Debbie brightened. “Oh. That’s the best kind of conversation to have. Men never know what you’re going to be talking about. He probably thinks he’s going to waltz in, tell you how awesome you are, and say that he wants to hang out with you again.” “Yeah. No.” I agreed. “Good God.” John said. “That’s why I insist on being around when women talk man-talk. I would never, ever learn this stuff from drinking with the guys.” He toasted us. “For letting me be here.” “Anytime.” Debbie said, patting him on the back. “You have to learn somehow.” “I feel like I read a whole self-help book with my dinner.” He said, happily. “Great.” I said. “But. Did you underline?” ------------ About the author: Holly Winter is a teacher and a writer and a flight attendant living in Denver, Colorado, USA. She can be reached at her website or email: Holly@livingthelifeofholly.com Comment on this column in the forum. ------------ |
||||||
|
|
|||||||
|
