It was New Year’s Eve, and I was reflecting. It wasn’t a bad place to do it, really – in a bar full of people I had just met, along with my best friend from work. They were nice, although I got the feeling that one girl in particular wanted to talk to me. As in, she wanted to hit on me. Well, maybe. I thought so.
But see, here’s the thing. I wasn’t impolite to her, but I said oh, that’s interesting these things that you are saying, but then engaged in conversation with some other people. Honestly, I really didn’t want to even think about chatting up girls at a bar on New Year’s Eve.
Hopefully you haven’t spilled your coffee mug on any important work papers that you ought to be reading right now, but it was true. I have limits. Even though I was drinking and she was quite tipsy, I kind of just wanted to enjoy talking to new friends while letting my mind wander other places. Like, for example, how have my relationships with other people changed in 2006? Some have weakened while others have grown stronger. But overall, it’s been a year where . . .
Oh golly, GWLM (Girl Who Likes Me) just touched my knee under the table I think. Wait, did she? I couldn’t really tell. It was kind of a graze more than anything. Wait – no, her hand is back. Well, you know. We’re all sitting around a table talking, and, in a cold impersonal world where you can’t be sure of a kind word or even the very humanity of the next guy on the street, the warm touch of a new friend is sometimes a comforting . . .
Nope, now her hand is on my thigh. Well, this isn’t going to work at all. I try to keep up a conversation over the table, but under the table there’s a party, but it’s only on the outside of my pants.
Eventually she stops. Which is good – I didn’t want to be rude, but I definitely wasn’t reciprocating the physical contact. Which, you know, I thought at the time, is a microcosm of dating in general – someone takes a risk, the other person either reciprocates or doesn’t, and then you proceed from there. But it requires that initial risk, which has certainly become . . .
Sweet holy balls. She’s back and her hand is dangerously close to the crotch of my jeans.
Okay, I need to put a stop to this. I decide to take direct action that will take care of the problem directly. So I get up and go to the bathroom, and later, when I returned, switched to another chair. Phew, good thing I took care of that, I was thinking.
But, like I said earlier, New Year’s Eve is a great time for reflection, and, frankly, I have a lot to reflect about. Like most everyone else, I have a lot of thoughts about my job that need to be organized and ordered in my mind. There are whole list of things for me to do when I get back home. And most interesting of all (to me), there are girls. I continue drinking, the ball drops, and we toast. We order more drinks, and I continue to chat while thinking about other things. You see, it’s been quite a rollercoaster of a year for me, honestly, and who knows . . .
Oh geez, she’s next to me again, and now she’s trying to hold my hand and playing footsie. Holy hell – now what? I kick my friend. I need to be bailed out, big time. Fortunately, he came through in the clutch:
“Well, it’s time to go.”