So there's this guy...
By hfserrano on March 14, 2014
It is good to be a regular in some places. Church. The gym.
I have to come clean here and tell you I am a regular in a bar. If you call about two times a week regular…that is what I am. I feel like a regular. Everybody knows my name when I walk in. I know everyone’s name. The hostess doesn’t need to ask me if I want a table. She knows I take my place at the bar. Each Tuesday I walk in; make my way to my seat where I am promptly brought my first two for one martinis. I say “hello” to all of the other regs drinking their two-fers and survey the rest of the large oblong bar. It is shaped like a horseshoe.
And there is this guy….
But first I need to tell you a little back story. This is the place I met my guy. Not this guy. Another guy. My guy.
I walked into this bar two years ago, after three years of internet dating. I walked into this bar to meet up with a friend and laugh and lament about my latest date gone wrong…and swear off men for at least a year. I had been here before. It is friendly, and inviting, and a safe place for a single gal to walk in. It’s not like we sit around in a smoky fog, stirring our watered down drinks with a plastic stick and wonder where it all went wrong. This is a nice place with nice food and nice people. And on this particular night I saw this guy, this guy who would turn out to be my guy sitting across from me. We had seen each other before. We waived, we smiled, we ended up sitting next to each other and by the end of that evening he had asked me out on a date. It was a good date. Two years later we are now living together. And on Tuesday nights when the kids go out with dad we meet up at the bar for dinner. When I say we know everyone it is not an exaggeration. Ever heard of “Cheers”? There you go…
When there is someone new, someone unfamiliar taking up a spot on the highly coveted bar stools, you notice. In fact, on a busy Friday night (the other night I am usually there) when a regular can’t get a seat because a couple of newbie’s has shown up for date night; well let’s just say if looks could talk.
And there’s this guy…
I have seen him before. I would not call him a “regular” regular. But he is regular enough that I know who he is…and he intrigues me. Not in the “OMG he is very attractive and I wonder if he is married” kind of intrigue. In fact, he does not appeal to me at all looks wise. But he intrigues me all the same.
I am guessing he’s in his mid-forties, salt and pepper hair. His skin in pale, like he doesn’t get outside much. From the torso up, which is all I ever see, he always wears a dress shirt in beige, white, light blue. If he wears a tie during the day it is off by the time he gets to his place at the bar. He is not there to stand out. There are two official ends at this bar and he is always at one of them. Alone. One time we sat on the same side as him and because it wasn’t that busy I saw a motorcycle helmet on the seat next to him. His hair was just disheveled enough that the helmet had to be his. He rides a bike. And on the purse hook under the counter next to him hung several shirts in plastic from the dry cleaners.
He wears a wedding ring. He drinks beer. I have noticed he has put on weight. This is what at least 4 pints of beer at a sitting will do to you. I think I have seen him eat once or twice, but usually his date is a pint of beer…and his phone.
His phone! This is why I am intrigued. He never stops looking, texting, scrolling and occasionally talking to his phone. Not on his phone…AT his phone. He is more obsessed with his phone than my three children combined. Sometimes he has headphones on. He can sit there for hours…or at least for as long as I sit, and he does not waiver. He does not look around; he does not make eye contact with anyone. Sometimes he looks at one of the many TV’s around the bar. But I can tell he is not really watching. The bartenders re-fill the pint when it empties. It’s the un-spoken language of regulars at a bar.