I had met a very shy nice young gentleman at a friends rock show as I was ordering a fine peaty whiskey at the bar. I was conversing with my favorite bartender, Mr. Asshole, named that because he has the rudest and most sarcastic bar manner of anyone I've ever met.
He will ask a customer what they will be having and if they don't answer within about 5 seconds, he either says "No" and walks away or if he is on a true power trip, he with say "too late" and make the customer what ever drink he feels like making at that very moment. Needless to say many of us find this rough, poor model of customer service hysterical. Especially because he uses his "best judgment" to determine if individual customers actually belong in this bar. It is a dive, a shit hole as it were, and caters to a fairly rough crowd. Many a frat boy has been ousted from this bar in an effort to prevent somebody starting a good ol' fashion bar fight. It is as if the song by Charlie Daniels "Uneasy Rider" has somehow come into existence in this particular bar.
Mr. Asshole and I are discussing that he is in fact an asshole ("Mr. Asshole you are such an asshole! Why are you always screwing with customers?"), and that though it is funny (Mr. Asshole replies "because I don't like customers, only regulars, bar flies and you little missy, of course.") he might want to be kinder to customers for "karma's sake" ( "You know Mr. Asshole, this will come back to bite you in the ass some day!" to which he replies "Good thing I like a bite on the ass!"). At this point I realize that a shy young gentleman, who has been standing, patiently, behind me has not been served yet. A few more moments go by and I finally say "Mr. Asshole, this is my friend . . . " as I point to this young man, as he realizes what is happening and replies "XXXXX." SO I continue, "and my friend XXXXX would like a . . . " as I point to him again, and he replies "Jameson on the rocks."
XXXXX proceeds to formally introduce himself, thank me for my skilled assessment of the situation and the fact that I can play the bartender like a fiddle. We realize that we have friends in common and he asks if he can take me out sometime. You can guess the rest. . .
But the story continues. We make plans to meet up at my favorite place which XXXXX had never been to. He already has a table and cocktails ordered as I walk in the door. We talk, we relate, we both love cars and working on them. We both love shooting and are lousy shots. We both know way too much about whiskey and scotch and compare notes. . . and then I notice my friend The Punk sitting alone at the bar. I've known The Punk for 15 years and he asks me out on a regular basis, and I turn him down on a regular basis (anger issues, a kid he doesn't see, and an STD don't rate very high in my book). So, The Punk looks over, and I ignore him simultaneously tramping up the flirty body language as to make it know to God and man that I am on a date and no one better mess this up for me! We should all know better!
The Punk walks over to our table and plops himself down in a spare chair. Oh Lord, it took all of me not haul off and kick him square in the shin with all of my might because I knew exactly what he was trying to do. I believe the term for this, which is both accurate and inelegant is "cock block."
And I play nice, introducing the two and we all find common ground to conduct civil, yet strained, conversation. Civil, yet strained for AN ENTIRE HOUR AND TEN MINUTES! Finally I couldn't take it anymore and I wink at XXXXX as I say, "its getting late and I have to be at work by 8am! XXXXX would you be a gentleman and escort me to my car?"
Before XXXXX could reply, or get up to settle our bill, I was out of my chair giving The Punk a hug, whispering in his ear that it was never going to work & I was not going to sleep with him, especially after this escapade, and infact that I was going to plant a big wet kiss on XXXXX to try and restore the balance of the universe and make up for this weird night! Needless to say, XXXXX walked me to my car and I apologized profusely, gave him a big kiss and offered to take him out to dinner somewhere I've never been in an effort to avoid anyone I've ever know!
I learned through this experience, that we have a choice to make, to do the classy thing or not to do the classy thing. Cock block is not a classy thing. Falling for it is not the classy thing. And lastly making a scene of it is not the classy thing!
XXXXX agreed to see me again and we had a lovely time at an eatery that neither of us had been to and both agreed to never go back too (just for fun, the food was very good!). I learned more from this experience about how to engage grace in any and all unpleasant situations. So I thank you XXXXXX, you reminded me why I bothered to participate in cotillion as a youth, as well as ballroom lessons, and being a debutante. Not that I will ever need those skills, who uses 4 forks at a place setting anymore, let alone busts out in a spontaneous Venusian waltz? But that in all situations that have anything to do with the heart, you must proceed with the utmost grace, so that all have a face saving way to get out of the cock block!
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