magicbeans. nothing if not awkward.

Out for a beer or four with people after work. 'I'm not going to go to Atomic Wings with you, but if you're going to a real bar I'd be more than happy to get a drink.' And I guess that Scruffy Duffy's is a real bar, but it's also full of yuppie businessmen high-fiving eachother and all hoping that a woman walks in the door. That said, there is something strangely attractive about the yuppie businesswomen, but maybe it's only the comparison to the guys who outnumber them at a nearly 10-1 ratio. Or maybe it was the fact that one of them in particular had cute librarian glasses.

After one drink there, we headed down the block to a bar that I had been in once before when I was out drunk after work, which was much more pleasant atmospherically, and had better beers on tap. And where everyone laughed at me when I said that I had at points given serious thought to the idea of becoming a cop.

And after that, with enough drinks and lack of dinner in my stomach to be buzzed, my typical internal monologue, wondering about the whole feasibility of ever meeting anyone in a bar type of setting.

Then, across from me on the train home, a girl in black, looking possibly a little drunk herself, a new three-day crush. She took Virginia Woolf's The Waves out of her bag, removed a Con-Ed bill and some other mail, read the first page or two, then put it back and wrote something in a little notebook. She had bobby-pins in her hair, a freckle on her nose, and got off at 181st Street.