I Am Not a Bar Loser Anymore

Pick- up bars were never my idea of a way to spend an evening. If I did go out with my friends to a bar I brought a book because men never cozied up to me. I was brunette. My girlfriends were blondes. They got all the attention and I was shoved out of the way on the race to get to them. So there I was the lone brunette with my head down reading. This actually was ok with me because I never took "bar speak" which I think consists mostly of monosyllables. I didn't develop the fine art of idle chit chat. My lightest subject was films by Truffaut. I was alone a lot. Every once in a while a guy would ask me what I was reading and I'd look up long enough to say "I love Salinger, do you?" Conversation over. Bars made me nervous and sweaty.

I spent no time between college and the present going to bars to meet the opposite sex. Unfortunately being single again after two marriages I find myself facing that option. My skills however remain back at bringing reading material. Now it's mostly the New York Times which in an area as conservative/Republican as Palm Desert, CA leaves me alone on my bar stool. I am also still brunette in the land of blondes and relatively flat chested in a sea of cleavage. I made a brief attempt at becoming partially blond and buying a push up bra but apparently didn't fool anyone because I got a lot of reading done. I resigned myself to the fact that I was a bar loser.

Saturday night my lonely bar life changed. I went to "The Nest" in Palm Desert known for being the hottest, oldest and most raucous pick-up place in a 100 mile radius. Yep I'm talkin' old, as the male demographic is probably 60-95yrs. Honey, those 95 year olds loved me. Every bad toupee looked my way regardless of my brown hair and lack of cleavage. Even the comb overs were winking at me. I walked by a man who was asleep at a table and he woke up to check me out.  I had no time to read or talk about foreign films as I was getting hit on from every direction. My head was spinning. I danced with a man who just had a knee and hip replaced ; he was a real trier but unsteady and might have broken my little toe. I think a guy in a multi-colored sweater tried to sell me a cemetery plot but it was so noisy I could hardly hear him. I'm not exactly sure but I could have sworn I saw a man come out of the bathroom juggling a bottle of Viagra but it could have been Prevecor. The joint was jumping. I went from bar loser to the big time in no time.

I might go back but first I have to get my toe x-rayed .