A Guy Walks Into a Bar…
As I walk into a bar, I look back and forth to see if I can find her. I’m sweating from my hands, and forehead, I can feel the sweat running down the side of my face. However, I’m not sure if it’s from the extreme heat we are experiencing, or if it is from being nervous to see her again. I try to pull off the gold band on my left hand to slip into my pocket, but my hands are too swollen from the heat. Eventually, it becomes loose and I put it in my front pocket as I always do. I walk into a blast of cool air conditioning and immediately feel refreshed. As I approach the bartender, I ask if she has seen Whitney yet. He hasn’t seen her, and I assume she also got off of work a little late. Her boss is always making her stay to finish his work, as is mine which is why it’s so convenient to meet up for a bite to eat, and a few drinks after. This is our favorite spot, you can’t go wrong with five dollar appetizers and drinks during happy hour in and expensive city such as New York.
As I take a seat at the polished bar top, I order an old fashioned and ask for an extra shot of brandy mixed in. I usually drink a strong one after a long day running between meetings, and always before I see Whitney. However, I’m not sure how this drink will hit me tonight after a long day in the heat. Maybe I should order a water too? But instead, I keep it with the usual, and only take my cocktail. I keep checking my Iphone waiting for her to send me a text message or call me, but nothing is showing up. As I’m watching ESPN on one of the flat screens behind the bar to see what time the basketball game is on, I see my phone light up out of the corner of my eye. Anxious to see what Whitney has sent me, I quickly grab my phone. Instead, I see Cindy’s name under the new text message notification. I get a lump in my throat as I am nervous to see what she has said.
Her text reads, “Hey! When ru planning to be home 2nite? Ru comin home?”
I hesitate for a second, to think about what to answer back.
I respond, “Stayin at work late again, not sure. Let u know”
Just as my text message is sent, a tall blonde leans over on the bar and says, “Hey handsome, what’s your name?” Sure enough, it’s Whitney, looking gorgeous as always with her long, straight blonde hair, wearing bright red lipstick only to match the knee length, one shoulder, tight dress I had never seen on her thin body before. As I stand up, I realize she’s taller than normal. Only to look down and notice the tall stiletto heels she is wearing tonight. I look to the bartender and give a nod. The bartender knows this nod, and quickly moves to get a martini glass and fill it with a strong mixture of apple flavored vodka for the lady.
We get our drinks and move from our spot at the bar to a tall table in the back corner by the juke box to enjoy our drinks and talk.
“Oh my goodness it is so hot out today! I hope my air conditioning turned on.” She says.
“I know it, I made sure mine was on before I left for work this morning.” I respond.
She looks at me with a little smirk on her face and says, “My apartment might just be a little extra steamy tonight, I hope that’s okay.”
“I think I can handle a little extra steam.” I respond.
I change the subject quickly, “So how was your day anyway? You were a little later than usual!”
“It was okay. Yeah, I had to run a few extra errands, and these heels take a little bit longer to walk in.” She answers.
“Well how about we take that pain away and order one more drink with our appetizers?” I ask.
I was the waitress over and we order our usual appetizers along with another round of drinks.
“So what did you tell Cindy tonight? You know, we can’t exactly keep this a secret forever.” She brings up.
“I told her I was staying late at work again. She’s used to it. And I knowwwww. I will tell her soon enough, just haven’t found the right time. Although, I’m not sure there’s ever going to be a right time to tell her.” I say annoyingly, as she always brings this up every time we meet.
As our conversation continues, I begin to notice that it is getting harder to hear what one another is saying. So I give Whitney the wink, and wave the waitress back over to pay the bill. I hand her my credit card, and when she returns, I tip the waitress well , and sign the receipt. But, as I’m signing the receipt, I notice that my name is printed as Cindy Donnely, not Scott Donnely. Did I have my wives credit card on accident? Oh well, I pay the bills anyway. I get up and help Whitney out of her tall bar stool, as I don’t want her to twist an ankle or anything before our walk back to her apartment. As I’m waving goodbye to the bartender, I notice a beautiful lady sitting at the end of the bar with a man. She has short brown hair, with a sparkly black dress, that I have seen before. I take another look and come to realize that that is Cindy, my wife, with another man just as I am with another woman. An ooze of emotions run through my body. My heart is pounding with anxiety, my stomach churning with nervousness, my head pounding with anger. Do I say something? Or do I pretend it never happened. I look at Cindy, I look at Whitney, and I walk out of the bar.
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