Take Dirt…or Give it

R.B. Winters
R.B. Winters
Bar, Dating, Larrymore, Late Night, Russian 0 Comments

Take DirtLarrymore, the Russian and I met at Ditmars Station and Pub Restaurant for what I intended to be a simple happy hour. The goal was to have a few cheap drinks and avoid the usual gay haunts, a.k.a. Hell’s Kitchen.

My friends have more interesting dating lives in my mind. For instance Larrymore has the Hoboken boyfriend and the Bronx lover. It’s not so much about being a player as it is about the option to choose, though Ginger from the Bronx may need to go as he’s planning to quit Alcoholics Anonymous. We would never be so terrible as to judge a quitter, but he’s a pre-quitter, he quit drinking and now he’s going to quit-quit drinking. He’d never enjoy a night out with us – we drink our fair share.

We sat in this sports bar, surrounded by an array of interesting people, including the guy that thinks it’s ok to make in the bathroom, Larrymore had the pleasure of that experience firsthand. The bartender turned out to be gay and funny. Aside from being out of the first three beers I requested, he did provide us exceptional service and free shots. It’s the one time being gay has paid off in a straight bar…aside from all of those times when you’re the date of a lady friend who is either hopelessly single or even more messed up than you. We all exchanged numbers, the intent was for Larrymore to make a move as he was the one with interest in our bottom bartender friend. However, life never goes as planned and the bartender was interested in the Russian. So interested in fact that the moment he was off work he came to meet us at Elixir. We had a good time, until my animated hands threw a beer bottle at a tranny. She tried to make me feel better by explaining that the bar has this happen all the time. I rebutted with, I’m upset I wasted the beer, not that I shattered a bottle all over you, priorities.

Around 1:30, oh we started at 5:00, so my simple happy hour was shot to shit, I made my way to the train. Usually I would tell myself not to drunk text and try to follow the rules I’ve created, but I wanted to talk to Late Night. I didn’t even know if he’d be awake. To my surprise he was and after a lengthy train ride and resisting my natural impulse to decline an invite to Industry, I up met him.

We had a pretty great time, a little drinking, a little dancing and some light conversation. He confessed to having read my blog, my first question was how’d you find it. Facebook sold my ass out by recommending my page, which is a great thing from the standpoint that I know they have a good related materials algorithm in place, but slightly mortifying when you realize all the thoughts you have about someone they now know. Late Night surprised me again, he could have easily been pissed over some of my posts, they haven’t always been the most flattering, but he took it with a grain of salt and the dirt was no big deal.

If I judged Late Night as incorrectly as I’m now thinking, I wondered if the Magic 8 Ball could have also been off its game. Giving it one more ask, “Will this blow up in my face?” this time the answer was, “No.” Maybe we all just need a do-over now and then, so says the Magic 8 Ball.