Men in Bars

I’ve always tried to be careful about writing something
personal-that is, I don’t write anything when I’ve had a couple of beers. For
me, a couple of beers means I’m pretty well pissed.

Today, after a 70-hour week of caring for people who may not
see next week, I stopped at a nice little bar for a beer. I’d spent several
hours at a great rock show-gems and minerals stuff-and I felt wonderful. A
little tired, but “a good tired” as my Mom used to say. I debated the idea of
getting a beer in a cool pub as opposed to stopping at Ingles for a 6-pack and decided why not? I’m a big girl; I’ll sit at the bar and feel all grown up.

I don’t know what it is, but drinking a beer in a bar is different
than drinking at home  or with your friends.
It’s something I’m still getting used to doing on my own. I eat out alone
(occasionally because it’s still a price thing, something to consider when
every penny matters) I go to poetry readings alone  (not as often as I’d like), I do pretty much everything alone. I like doing things alone. When I stopped in at this pub, I chose it because I knew on Sundays there was a Celtic jam session starting around five. I knew there would be impromptu entertainment.

About halfway through my first beer, a very nice, attractive
man stepped up next to me to order his Scotch. We talked, and continued to talk
through my next beer and order of house chips. We laughed about my feeling
lightheaded after one beer. He told me about his folks being in town for
Father’s Day and the rock show-where I had been all afternoon.

In other words, we had a nice conversation, a nice time. I gave
him my number when I left and he called on my way home and again cautioned me to be careful. We promised to get in touch over the week.

My question now is; what is it with meeting men in bars? I don’t delude myself into thinking I’m some young hot thing, but I know I can make good conversation (Maybe because I DON’T care if they ever call) and I’m not so hideous that I repulse anyone…but what are you supposed to do once the buzz has worn off? I’m hoping this very nice man will understand that he had a fun conversation with a nice woman who has some wise cracking experiences
behind  her, has a pragmatic outlook on life and who doesn’t really expect him to ever call her.

Then again, I almost wish he would be the one who would be intrigued enough by the conversation to overlook the fact that she isn’t 22 anymore…and give her a call anyway.

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2011

2011. Sounds like science fiction. I remember when “In The Year 2929” was in the Top 10 and it sounded so cheesy. We aren’t literally connected to our computers yet, we still have the use of our legs…but now the damn song doesn’t sound nearly so cheesy.

Every year we think back on the past 12 months and wonder where they went, what did we accomplish and usually feel like we wasted so much time. I used to do that, used to mark my years with flags of one failure after another. I used to say “This year will be different! This year I’m going to succeed.”

This year I look back at the last 12 months and still wonder how they flew by so quickly. I still remember one failure after another. I also look at my work and feel some measure of progress. Success is something I define differently than I did in other years. Now success is someone complimenting my work, someone buying it. Success is having a long conversation with a friend in pain, encouraging a family member when they are frustrated and frightened. Success is going to sleep knowing my rent is paid, my vehicle is running and I have a job to get up for.

Success is understanding life is lived one day at a time. Success is knowing in my heart I’m doing the best I can.