peel me a grape

I was feeling a bit tired, but I made it out of the house last night to the California Clipper. I went with Elisa to hang out, ogle boys, and see her boyfriend Tommy between sets (he plays drums for the rockabilly band that plays the bar every other Friday night). Though I was tired, I managed to slap on some makeup. I wore my contacts even though my left eye was just killing me. The dim lights in the bar helped conceal the redness. The champagne cocktail Elisa bought me helped me forget about the pain in my eye.

We got a booth (hurray!) without a little tabletop lamp (boo!). Mainly we talked about how I needed to be more outgoing. Elisa’s always on me about this. She keeps telling me about how I need to be all confident and shit. I don’t remember much because that’s when a dude appeared.

He wore his hair in a buzzcut, a black jacket, and dark pants. He was very polite.

“My friends I would like to buy you ladies a drink.” Say what? I saw his friends, sitting a few tables away and studiously not looking in our direction. Interesting.

Elisa declined the offer but I requested a diet coke. While the guy got my drink, Elisa and I tried to figure out if he was hitting on us or if he was just nice. He returned with my diet coke, I thanked him (shaking his hand!) and asked him what his name.

“It’s Matt.”

“Matt, it’s nice to meet you. I’m Jasmine.”

“Hi.”

And then he went back to his table.

Um, okay. Elisa and I debated about whether or not I should have invited him to sit and talk for a bit but honestly Matt was already turning to go when I asked him what his name was.

Before I started letting my mind go to that awful place where the only reason he bought me a drink was because it was “Play a prank on fattie” night at the bar, I sniffed my drink for drugs (no roofies!). I drank it. It tasted appropriately diet cokey. I looked to see if Matt or his friends were looking over, and wondered if I should go over and buy them a drink. It was hard to tell. Elisa and I figured it must have been some sort of exercise for them as one of the other guys got up, approached a table with two girls and (according to Elisa, who could actually see this going on) looked like he was going to buy them drinks when their male companions returned to join them. Dude slowly walked back to Matt and the other boy, miming the act of putting a gun to his head and pulling the trigger, and they all left the bar.

But really the reason we were there was to check out two of Tommy’s friends. Not for me, but just in general because Elisa hadn’t met them before. Tommy’s friend Jordan, with whom he has lunch every day, and Chris, the dude who hooked up with the mature lady who passes the pitcher collecting tips for the band during their set.

EXACTLY.

We didn’t have to wait long for Jordan and Chris to arrive. Jordan was meeting a bunch of other friends at the bar, so he didn’t end up sitting with us for most of the evening. He did, however, come over to introduce himself. A very nice guy.

Chris was, well, drunk. Pretty wasted, I’d say. He couldn’t make eye contact, sort of wobbled when he walk, and slumped down in the booth when he joined us for a sit. He’d get up to go to the bar for another beer (Bud in the bottle), and we’d watch him as he’d try his hardest to sit on a bar stool without falling over. He didn’t seem bothered that we knew he’d hooked up with the woman we’d christened “the bucket lady”, a bohemian looking lady wearing a cleavage baring black top under an unbuttoned white shirt and a black felt beret on her head.

Chris was only too happy to share what he was looking for in a woman — “20 to 35, likes to get laid” — and his credentials — “I gotta good job, make good money” — while scanning the room and trying to avoid the bucket lady. He guessed that Elisa was 27 (hurray). He expressed his interest in any woman who was fun and was interested in fucking him which, when you get right down to it, is really what any of us wants, right? He got up to make the rounds. Elisa observed that the bucket lady went over to him but he sort of swooped and swerved around her. Or maybe he really was that drunk. He sat down in the booth again to tell us about the $300 escort he’d gotten on a trip to San Francisco.

“I looked down and it was like, her vagina, her vagina, there was two holes?” He corrected himself. “She had this, um, fishnet, hole?”

“Oh.” Elisa figured it out.”She was wearing crotchless underwear? Crotchless tights?”

“YES.”

Meanwhile, I’m trying to not die of laughter.

“So, what about that chick there? What’s up with her?” Elisa gestured towards the bucket lady.

“Oh yeah. We hooked up.” He nursed his beer. “We fucked. I tried to get her to suck my dick but she wouldn’t because it was too big.”

Uh huh. Or maybe he was as drunk as he was now? More slobbered words, then Chris got up and did another loop. Just as he was coming back to grace us with his presence, he was intercepted by the bucket lady. I pretended I wasn’t there while Elisa tried to hear what they were saying. Bucket lady was a close talker, so we couldn’t hear shit. She was for sure talking in his ear and getting up in his face. They parted, and Chris plopped down.

I don’t remember if that’s when Tommy came over to talk to us about the band he, Chris, and Jordan used to be in, or if it was talk about the potential of him and the bucket lady hooking up that night. I’m pretty sure it was the latter, as I made Elisa promise me she’d get Tommy to check into that for us when she drove me home.

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One response to “peel me a grape

  1. Pingback: steppin’ out « this is jasmine

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