Jennifer in the Land of the Lounge Lizards

Jerry was the only other person left who hadn't officially canceled, so I waited by the entrance and had a couple drinks. I hadn't been alone for ten minutes before some guy asks if he can sit in the seat beside me. "Yeah sure, but I'm expecting a friend." Was fine with him, he'd give it up when they showed.

Rule number one. When she says she's waiting for someone, it's a diversion.

Guy: "So you been down here before?"

Me: "Yeah, a couple of times. Was here for Collin James a month or so ago, not that I particularly like his music, but it was an o.k. show."

A few minutes passed.

Guy: "So you been down here before?"

What a moron.

"Woman on the brain". A common affliction. Desperate to try to find something to talk about, and totally flustered, I end up doing the worst possible things.

The conversation did not improve over the next hour or so, although he did hold my bar seat while I went to pee, so that made him useful.

She seemed pretty interested in me, and when she went to the bathroom, like all the time, she wanted me to guard her place at the bar.

At about 10:00 I figured Jerry wasn't going to show, or, I was kinda worried that I mighta missed him. The place is absolutely huge. You could wander around all night and not find your friends. All I could do was keep my eyes open.

So this ficticious guy never materialized. What I was hoping for. Maybe the second hour will go better, I'll pull my foot out of my mouth, and something will materialize.

In an effort to ditch the guy, "George", I said that I was going to find a pool game, and tried to make a run for it. No good.

George: "You like pool?"

Me: "Yeah."

George: "Are you any good?"

Me: "No. I just like to play."

COOL!!! A way I can show off my superior something to her. I knew there was a reason why I spent hours playing this game.

Now here's a piece of advice for anyone who finds themselves alone in a bar, yet is determined to have a good time. Head for the pool tables. Playing a game of pool totally eliminates the dreaded "approach" and need for "opening lines".

So George follows me over to the pool tables, three tables. I just hang back and scope the tables to see which one I want to join.

Table one: All guys. Older, 2 have long hair. One looks like David Suzuki(sp?). The other one resembles Lucifer, and he's wearing icky white-ish pants that are way too tight and thin. Yeahk. One other guy is big and bald (shaved). Fourth player is an enigma, don't even remember him.

So dis babe comes over wid her guy. Dis one has real hooters, Yeah shoulda seen 'er. So she's checkin' us out, and I notice she's checkin' out my tight pants. Whoa, baby!!!! Beats the heck outa marge simpson at the next table here.

Table two: Only person I noticed was this chick in tight leather pants (well they sorta looked like rubber pants), and had this doo that swept her hair all to one side.

Table three: Singles game.

OK, I think we should stay away from the table with those guys. But they all look like shitheads. Don't worry, she's with me, and the shitheads aren't any competition. Look at that guy with the tight pants, and this gross scar on his face. Looks like Mister Death. I don't have anything to worry about.

While scrutinizing the situation I noticed that I had attracted some attention. A couple of the guys at table one were talking about me, I could tell because they weren't making any efforts to hide it. So I boldly tried to stare them down, which of course made it worse. I had a choice. I could be shy and escape to another part of the bar, and have a crappy time, or I could get in the pool game and maybe have some fun. So I walked up and put my dollar on the table edge.

So den she walks away from dis guy she's wid, and lays a buck on the table! I shit you not. So we figure the longer we play, the longer she'll hang with us, Yeah know? So right when I was tinkin that maybe she just had a boob job or sometin, they take the third table. shit.

Later. The row of dollars wasn't moving. These guys appeared to be ignoring them and just totally hogging the table. They continue to unabashedly look at me and talk about me. I was about to walk up and say, "Who's a girl gotta blow to play a game of pool around here?" (The Last Seduction - "Who's a girl gotta blow to get a drink around here?") but then George informed me that we had gotten onto table three, and we could turn it into a doubles table.

I don't know why she was paying so much attention to the shitheads. I was afraid she was going to say something provocative, but finally a table opened up. Ah! Finally I can show off my skills.

Now here's where George's one redeeming feature surfaced. Turns out he was captain of some pool team. So we held the table for, like 12 games, against some very worthy opponents. We were hot. I was finally having a great time. I talked with all the people we played. A guy who had just moved here from New Mexico two weeks ago... This nice girl who didn't really tell me much about herself... Another girl who was kinda bitchy about the way the game was going... Some of the onlookers... We laughed, we cried, it became part of us.

We had a great time. Finally she was loosening up, and I think she had a good time too. We met all these interesting people. Fortnately none of them was a threat.

Early in our victories, the Lucifer guy from table one sauntered up to me. He was entirely repulsive. I had noticed when I was watching him play that he was cocky, and unsportsman-like. He said "I don't know if you're here with a significant other or not, but when Velante Williams comes on I would like to dance with you." I answered with a curt "We'll see." He walked away, and then disappeared from the pool table area for the rest of the night. Sorry. Don't wanna dance.

So I figure dis chick keeps on lookin at me, so I figure she wants me or somethin. So I ask her to dance and she blows me off! What a fukkin bitch.

George, meanwhile, became increasingly presumptuous. As the games progressed he found it necessary to instruct me on some of my shots by putting his arm around me, and whispering into my ear (like secrecy is a strategy in pool or something). Ugh. But, as long as we were winning, I tolerated this behavior. By the time we lost, he was calling me "dear".

It was really cool. She was letting me help her and put my arms around her. But then this fat guy from Oregon came, he had some woman before, but he must have dumped her somehow. I don't know what happened next, all of a sudden they were talking.

Finally we lost, my fault. Enter Paul. We had played him a few games ago. He had been the nice girl's partner, and it turns out he didn't know anyone at the tables neither. He was from some small town in Oregon, and his cousin loved Velante Williams and had "dragged him down to California" to see them. His cousin was on the dance floor at the front, and Paul didn't like crowds. Paul's profession was snow removal. He was a young, friendly, sorta round guy who laughed easily and wore a baseball cap, and he thought I was 24. Luv him. He told me he hadn't had sex since he was sixteen. He had built his own house, and had two Rottweilers "Calvin and Hobbs", and some "toys". He said he couldn't stand the thought of falling in love with some girl only to have her wake up one morning and say she didn't want to be with him any more, and take half everything he had worked hard for. I asked him if he played Splatball (hit the nail right on the head with that question)... He loved playing Splatball. I secretly congratulated myself for my intuitiveness.

This jerk drives a snowplow!!! He's fat!!! What does she see in him? I don't know, but maybe I'll ask her to dance. Next chance I get.

Paul talked about relationships a lot. He said he got constant pressure from his friends to find a girlfriend. I corroborated certain things he was saying with excerpts from "The New Male Sexuality." He said he hadn't read that book.

George did not appreciate my being engrossed in conversation with Paul. He came over to us and said "So we played some great pool. Blah, blah, blah. That should be worth a dance. When a good song comes on, will you dance with me?"

I don't know what happened. It's like pool ended and she just stopped paying attention to me. She wasn't interested in dancing anymore. Try again!!! This always happens to me. Fuck.

What was with these guy's? It's like they want you to sign a fucking contract agreeing to dance with them at some point in the future.

Anyway, I tried to evaded the question, not particularly appreciating the pressure he was putting on me. Finally, he got an affirmation from me due to pure tenacity. I sorta felt obligated because he had kept us on the table all night. But then he went away. And Paul asked what George had been hounding me about. I told him, and Paul said "Fuck. You don't gotta dance with no one if you don't wanna. It's simple. Just say no." Then he said he had to go to the bathroom.

So right about then one of those shitheads, Mister Death with the tight pants, came up to me and said "Wassa matter, kid, no blowjob tonight?" I said "You want to step outside and say that?" Well, I didn't see it, but he must have grabbed a beer bottle on the way out to the parking lot.

I told him I wanted to jam from the pool table area to escape George's tentacles. I said after he went to the bathroom to meet me over by "that post" and we could go find his cousin on the dance floor. He said o.k. But by that time Velante Williams was done (I had managed not to dance with anyone). We cruised around for a while looking for his cousin, stopped and had a shooter, then found his cousin, Henry, at the exit. We walked outside. There were two ambulances and a fire truck outside. Don't know why. At my car Paul said "Well it was really nice meeting you Jan." I informed him that my name was Jennifer. Then Paul and Henry got in their truck and headed back to Oregon.

Overall, I had a great night. Sigh.

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