Charming, but single

The Friday night text messages started after I was already half in bed. I’ve been trying my best to rest and failing to do so each weekend. I’ve been sick off and on since July and I need to stay in for an entire weekend and lounge on my bed and drink orange juice and eat healthy food. But this wasn’t to happen on Friday night. Prom Date was at a bar that is right near my apartment and he suggested that I meet him for a glass of wine. He casually mentioned that The Blackberry was there, but quickly pointed out that they hadn’t spoken about me. I figured that one glass of wine wouldn’t kill me, so I slid into jeans and a flowy maroon top with some copper accents. I twisted my hair up and pinned it in a messy bun against my head, accessorized and added a light dusting of makeup. I didn’t really want to see The Blackberry, since he hadn’t made a move to ask me out even though he’s viewed my Match profile several times recently. But, I figured I had Prom Date there to entertain me. I found Prom Date and his friends quickly and ordered a Pinot Gris. Prom Date invited me to sit in an empty bar stool and as I did, he said, quite devilishly, “I’m sure [The Blackberry] won’t mind if you sit in his chair.” I giggled because The Blackberry was nowhere to be found. So I settled in with Prom Date and we talked about work and such for a while. The bar we were at is divided into two main rooms – the back half is darker and louder and home to a band most nights – the front, where we were, is a cigar bar. It’s brighter and quieter and more relaxing. I saw The Blackberry come into the front room, but I didn’t budge from my seat or my conversation with Prom Date and company. The Blackberry had a woman with him. She looked young and kind of drunk. He hung all over her while he talked to someone. Prom Date mouthed “I’m sorry” to me. I just giggled and shook my head. Truth be told, I couldn’t fault the dude for being with a woman, as we’d never been on a date or formally hung out since he started messaging me on Match. He had no idea I’d be at the bar, so no harm, no foul, right? It did feel kind of awkward that he hadn’t spoken to me. At one point, he was standing right next to my barstool and I didn’t even seem to register to him. Did my picture look that different? Did not having my hair down make that big of a difference? He was propped against this woman and made sure she’d agree to bring him home – but pointed out that he had to be up early to go out of town in the morning. I rolled my eyes for her. As soon as his Female Companion went to the back room again, he made reference to visiting his girlfriend out of town, noting that Female Companion didn’t know about that with a very hearty laugh. I rolled my eyes for both of them. Then with me, it was a different story. He turned and pretended to recognize me for the first time and made this show of asking if I remembered him. I smiled and said I did. He was drunk. Very drunk. For a guy who once bragged to me via instant message that he had one glass of merlot a night and that’s all, he was slamming back mixed drinks like a pro. I humored him in conversation, but I was pretty closed off to his advances – he’d been hanging onto another woman and joking about some out-of-town girlfriend. And my perch on my barstool put him at perfect eye level to leer at my chest, which he did without regard to if I’d care. He sloppily draped an arm around my shoulder and leaned in close to me to talk. I was trying to be polite but short to his flirtation, knowing full well he’d run back to his Female Companion as soon as she returned because she was a Sure Thing. “Remember when we used to instant message?” he asked. “On my Blackberry?” He patted the device, which hung from its holster on his belt. Cell phones are not accessories and should not be worn as such, except by doctors or others in times of crisis. This is a firm rule I abide by, although I must say that many men I know are phone-wearers, presumably because they don’t carry purses. “Of course, I’m not on it tonight,” he said, patting it again. “No Blackberry for me tonight!” He went on about how he’d been wined and dined by a contractor for work earlier in the evening and more about the Blackberry. He was trying to show off. “Well, I never bring my Blackberry out to bars,” I said. “Who needs to work that much?” I motioned to my personal cell phone and shot him a smug glance, because it takes more than a fancy cell phone to impress me. “Also, I never trust people who try to get me drunk.” Clearly, I was not going to play into his self-importance. Recognizing such, he tried another flirting tactic – “You look even prettier than in your picture,” he slurred. I rolled my eyes, for me this time. A few minutes later Female Companion came back. His hand flew from my shoulder and quickly went around her waist. I rolled my eyes for the both of us. He made a big show of flirting with her, even leaning her back onto Prom Date’s lap to grind against her and kiss her neck. Prom Date shot me this look of total pain and disbelief and mouthed, “I’m sorry” again. I just winked at him. Soon The Blackberry and Female Companion returned to the other room to dance. He didn’t even bother to wave to me or say goodbye. “I am so sorry about that,” Prom Date said. “I had no idea.” “He’s drunk,” I said. “Trust me, I’m amused. My married girlfriends depend on me for good stories like this one – they live vicariously through my single girl adventures. And I’ve never had a guy try to play two girls at one time so blatantly. And so poorly.” I kissed Prom Date on the cheek and headed out into the night. “You’re not going to tell [The Blackberry] goodbye?” he asked. “Hardly.” “He would be all about you normally. He just really wants to sleep with that other girl tonight, I guess.” I laughed. “I don’t need that. I have too many other prospects to deal with that.” And I walked out like I believed this was true.