by DJ Dad Jeans Has a Boner
I met her on Ok cupid. Her name was LorraineAndGone online but in real life her name was Ellen. I would rather Lorraine.
She was wearing black leather ankle boots with a hint of green tights that I could tell from under her knee length jacket. Her cheeks were rosy from being outside, and her hair was a braided blondish brown, held in place with a black hair tie down the left side of her neck, reaching the lower of her jacket pocket.
There were many photos on her profile from above her head, making her seem tall. Alas she was about 5’2” to my 6’2”. I didn’t think about that since in person you can’t just say. “Whelp see ya later, you’re too damn short.”
We met outside a bar that resembled a log cabin/pub/gentlemen’s cigar club. With a brown and black color way, it had hard wood floors, lots of booths and a fake fireplace in the corner. A couple shelves with old books that look like if you were to pull one back there would be a secret passage way to treasures. There were thrift store paintings of ducks and dogs and hunting men which don’t make me comfortable. But most non-dive bars seem to have them.
Walking in, the first thing I hear is “That was NOT your peanut butter. It was almond butter, you need to know the difference. I buy almond butter because I can’t have regular peanut butter.” I seem to pay attention to everything else because I already wanna leave this date at the bar. Cute girls with short brown bobs, sitting in ottomans, notice me looking at them.
“Should we get something at the bar?,” Ellen says, poking me in the side. “What do you want?” I’m not a big drinker so I explain my whiskey only rule, and she laughs out loud at me. This is going great so far. We’ve just walked in, our jackets aren’t even off yet , and she’s laughing about my drinking habits. What luck.
“I’ll have a whiskey ginger,” I say kinda ashamed of even ordering a drink. She walks up to the mustached bartender wearing overalls and a fucking fedora. I think he even has a bandanna under the hat. Gross.
I look back at the babes straight chillin in the corner booth. One of them looks familiar. Probably from Ok Cupid. I feel like everyone is on there now. One of them gets up and starts to walk towards me. I’m in the middle of taking my jacket off when she walks by and notices my bright fuchsia sweatshirt with three cats on it.
“Niiiice,” she says while pointing at one of the cats. It’s funny how when you have a couple drinks everything is okay to touch. Complete strangers have no boundaries any more. I quickly said thanks as she walked by. Kinda stoked she touched me. I’m pretty sure she was GetItGurl34. But trolling on OkC a bunch makes me think I know everyone. I checked her ass out while she walked toward a door that said “lassies.” It was one of those bar asses. You know when it’s dark, and she’s wearing black jeans so you can’t really tell if its nice or not.
I turn back towards the bar. Fedora mustache finished making our drinks, and Ellen hands mine to me.
“Whiskey Ginger right?” Her voice was kinda raspy like she had been yelling at a boxing match for a day straight. How did I not just notice that 5 minutes ago when she asked me about the drink. Whatever. NOT FEELING IT.
“What? Yeah thanks.” I take a sip, and it is well whiskey’d up. Kinda hard to swallow. I make a bitter face and let out a sound as if a cat was coughing up a hairball.
“Strong enough for ya? I told them to lay it on cuz you’re such a pussy.” Then she pushes me in the chest.
Wow. I can’t even talk now.
She fingers come hither to find a seat. As she walks, I notice a slight limp from her right leg. I think one is longer than the other. I don’t know.
What am I doing here exactly? Oh right I was lonely and wanted to go outside.
LorraineAndGone’s profile seemed so interesting.
Her Self Summary read:
IF YOU ARE ON HERE JUST TO FUCK. I’M NOT YOUR GAL. Now that I got that out of the way. I’m a bright spirit with a ton of energy and time. Looking for new hobbies since I just got my BA in Architecture. Needed to take break before starting my professional carrier. If you know of any places to meet other then a bar that would be a plus. I was brought up on a small farm in Michigan and moved to Berkeley for school and now I love it here. Not so much a city girl but can learn to love it.
Things I can’t live without:
My dog; Pants
My family and friends
My draft board
Message me if:
You like girls with that “girl next door vibe.” Are friendly and funny. Like to discuss present topics and know about hidden spots to go in the bay area.
Seems harmless right? I thought so.
As she takes off her coat, Weezer’s “Only in Dreams” gets turned up on the bar’s presumably Talking Heads Pandora station. I’m humming the song to myself and not really paying attention to anything else.
I look over at Ellen, and she’s checking her phone. No actually she’s taking a photo of her champagne glass and uploading it to the internet.
“It’s a French 75.” said to me like I should know already. “Champagne, Gin and, Lemon juice. My favorite drink to order. What? Have you been in a box for the last 10 years?”
I looked at her kinda puzzled because I already explained to her that I was not a big drinker. But she did not seem to hear any of that.
“Only in dreaaaaaaaammmmmmmsssss.” I sing to myself as she sees a girl she knows across the bar.
What luck. I try to gesture to her that I am headed to the bathroom marked “Lads” But by then she was deep in conversation. There’s a line that I am happy to wait in. If it means being a short distance from Lorraine’s, I mean Ellen’s scratchy voice.
Did I mention that my fingers were still frozen form waiting outside for 20 extra minutes while Scratchy showed up. She couldn’t get the street names correct. I specifically said Hayden and Smith. She heard Haven and Smith. That street was about 10 blocks down. So she called me and blamed it one my shady directions. My directions were typed online, how can you get it wrong.
The bathroom door opened to a short dude with fingerless gloves on. He did that i’m scared of you smile that I often get from people. Weird.
I sat on the toilet thinking of a way out of this mess. I turned to read the wall humor.
“Joey sux dicks”
Written under that, “Joey Sux Ducks” and under that “Jesus seeks Dicks and Ducks as his disciples.” Taken too far.
My phone buzzes and it’s my homie Jason texting me about a show at a venue down the street. Some hip hop and R&B DJ’s.
I hit him back “Yes, I’m on my way.”