10:30 a.m. - 2005-08-28
Six and I started with a lovely little dinner on the waterfront in a haunted pub. We did have to move tables, because the one we chose began raining on us. Which could be something ghostly, because it had been raining lightly all evening, but we had sat there for half an hour before it actually started to rain on us, and we were well into the belly of the bar.
We discovered Oliver Vanilla Beer, and if you know me, you know that I am a vanilla freak. It was beer heaven. There were real vanilla beans involved.
Then we moved on to a local Irish joint, which used to be the "Bar of a Thousand Bras," but they have since been taken down, and new owners have given the place an Irish sort of feel.
It was full of geeks and weirdos, which make for limited people watching, bnecause geeks and weirdos are a quiet lot with not a lot of energy to do the sort of things that entertain. There was one drunk man who asked me to pinch his friends butt (???). And the guys wife got very angry. In fact, all the guys wives were doing their best to forget that their husbands existed. Even when the men stumbled, and fell on their asses. It was a little too weird for me. So we drank up and headed out.
We strolled into the bar from Friday night, but without the NYC boys, it was dull and we left. The next stop was a place with good music, and a lead singer who was taken with Six, but the crowd didn't hold enough interest for us to both to stay.
At last we migrated to our favorite pub of all time, in which my favorite Irish band of all time was playing. We pulled up stolls by the front window, got a couple of apple beers, and settled into the Celtic rhythm.
We weren't left alone for too long. A dirty old man came up and stared at Six like she had three heads and he liked it. He was there for hours right in front of us, turning to stare every few minutes.
Six sort of developed a harem of men, including the adorable bouncer (who sort of attached himself to her when she told him I had found the ladies toilet stuffed with paper and unflushable). Kindness goes a long way. There was tall, long haired Renn Fest Freak lookin' guy who plastered himself to her side for an hour or so. There was the lead from another kick ass band that always gives her a sweet smile and how do ya do. I think he has a thing for her, but hasn't really said anything yet. Oh, and a guy who reminded us so strongly of one of our west coast friends it was spooky.
I, on the other hand, had a gaggle of 20 something college boys follow me around like wee puppies. They danced for me, gave me roses and professed their undying devotion. One in particular, a sort of Chris Vartan (sp???) looking guy outright blushed when I smiled back at him and said Hi up at the bar. His friend asked me all sorts of questions, like where I got my t-shirt, whether I was there for the social or the band... It was very cute. They all looked like they'd make pretty good men in 15 or so years. It was nice to be adored. I could get used to it.
The real deal, however, walked in about a half hour before close. He was tall, built, beautiful in a not ugly, but very masculine sort of way, wearing a well fitting black t-shirt, fitted, but not tight jeans, and biker boots. And he had that posture that only really confident bikers that aren't assholes have. I can't explain it. Unfortunately, I had since lost my mojo. Or maybe he just wanted to sit quietly and listen to the band play out. He followed me up after the set ended to offer a tip. A generous soul.
It was an almost spiritual experience. Have you ever looked at someone, and known that he was the most beautiful man (or woman) you've ever seen up close? More than any one you've hooked up with or anyone you've seen on screen?
I dreamt about him last night.
I didn't want to wake up.