Just ok - part 1

Last night at The Club was ok. Just ok. Not so many people, hardly any cute girls at my bar I could flirt with.

Scarlett and her friends came to see me at one point in the night. She was with her friend Marianne, who I know, and a few of Marianne’s friends.

I’ve met Marianne some night this winter. Scarlett and I were at this new club opening, where I slipped in the stairs and almost fell all the way down. I managed to hold on for dear life, but all my right hand could grab on was a small twisted steel cable (in the design of the handrail). I didn’t break a leg, but the skin at the first flex point on my middle and ring fingers was completely ripped off. I had two huge holes right where the fingers bend. And of course, I’m right handed. The fun of dry friction.

This happened just when we were leaving. We get into a cab to go to some other club where Scarlett’s friends are. Right around the corner to the second club was a parked ambulance, waiting for a call. I knock on the window and show my bleeding hand. The paramedic did an awesome job at fixing me up. The huge band aid she put on allowed me to still move my hand. And I wasn’t feeling much pain, but that could have been the booze or the cold. All that for free and with a smile.

Anyhow, we get into the club and join Scarlett’s friends.

I go see Scarlett: This girl over there, she’s really cute.

Scarlett: She’s my friend Marianne, she’s a nice girl.

A few moments later, when she’s standing nearby, Scarlett introduces us : Marianne, I don’t know if you’ve met Alex, we work together at The Journal.

And that was it, that was all it took me. I pulled the classic moves with the classic attitude. By 2:30 I was kissing her, at 3 she was jumping in the cab with me. And all that with a torn up hand.

That’s a thing I love about older girls, they know what they want and don’t need a whole mise-en-scene to allow themselves to get it. She has a good 8 years on me.

A few weeks later, I was with Scarlett and her boyfriend, in a trendy lounge in the hip part of town, and she was there too. She was a bit distant. Not playing stranger or anything, but she was putting on a slight "don’t think it’ll happen again" attitude. The first night, she actually thought that I was younger by a year or two, not a freakin decade.

At one point, we’re both leaning on the bar, next to each other. We don’t talk much. She turns and says: Listen I’m sorry, I’m a little off tonight, my ex is right here with a girl.

She points me to some tall guy not even 10 feet away from us, dancing with a girl.

Her: He left me cause I was too old, that’s what he said. Look at this bitch, she’s older than me. I’m sure she sucks in bed… I’m sorry, I’m way out of line.

Me: No you’re not. That’s incredibly tacky of him. If I was here with some girl and an ex-girlfriend who I had left walked in the door, I’d be gone in a minute. Want to make him jealous?

Her: How?

I start leaning in a little closer on her, looking her deep in the eyes, touching her each time I make her laugh, stroking her hair from time to time. I can see from the corner of my eye that the ex-boyfriend hasn’t missed a thing.

His face is priceless when we walk pass him, at 2:30 am as we leave the bar hand in hand.

Outside on the curb, I say: Well that was fun. Have a good night princess and don’t worry about it too much.

Her: You’re taking me to your place?

Seems like pretend flirting is just as efficient as real life flirting!

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So last night, Scarlett came to see me at the club with Marianne and her friends.

To be continued…