We arrive at the dive bar, and I cannot find my license. It’s somewhere in my bag, so I send D in. PR stays by the bar in the freezing cold until I insist he, too, goes inside, as I fumble around. Finally after what feels like forever, I manage my license and make it inside.
Of course, I cannot find them or YM, FM, and a group of friends. I wander through the whole place twice before I finally spot them tucked into booths in a corner on an elevated platform. There is nowhere for PR, D and I to sit until I spot an adjacent booth. PR sits next to me with the drink he insisted I get (and paid for): “What are you having?” “Club soda”‘ “With vodka in it?” “Sure” I picked our local vodka, which is very good and usually reasonably priced. He brings me a short glass, and he is essentially drinking doubles of the same. D sits down across from us and FM, who’d been somewhere when I arrived, sits next to her. The bar is playing classic punk rock, which PR loves. (Hey, a hint as to his name!) We are sitting together and I realize now we’re on a date. He has his arm around me and we are talking music and touching each other and it’s great.
Except for D, who, though surrounded by our friends, is feeling a little left out. FM is talking to his ex-girlfriend next to us, and I fill PR in on some of the people. He gets more vodka sodas for himself, more club soda for me, and we’re having a blast. The chemistry is great. I am wearing super low-rise jeans with a long cashmere sweater and at times, there is a gap of skin. Each time he notices, he caresses me, pulls down my sweater, and then pats me. It’s adorable and boyfriendy.
Another friend of D’s shows up, a gorgeous woman. Eventually, YM, FM’s ex, and others leave, leaving behind me, PR, FM, D, D’s friend and a random drunk dude. We’re no longer interested in being there, so we decide to go to another bar, maybe with dancing. (By now FM got a signal from D that the girl was not interested, so he left.) As we walk along in the freezing cold, we find a really douchey nightclub, and PR says, no, we can go to [hipster dive bar 1] or [hipster dive bar 2]. As we walk to one of them, we see D’s favorite hipster dance club, where I’ve spent a little too much time. She skips across the street with glee and we follow her.
The club is empty, as it’s Christmas day, but the music is always excellent. D buys us a round of shots and asks me what I want, I say I dunno, whisky, hoping to avoid some sickeningly sweet concoction. She orders well whisky. She hands it to me and PR gives me a look I must describe: essentially, with one glance, he tells me drink it and smile and I will buy you something, anything, to compensate for the disgustingness you are about to consume. Seriously, one forceful look. I drink it, and he hugs me close, and ugh, it was awful, but whatever. He then gets me a palate cleansing club soda.
While we were standing at the bar, he starts making interesting moves. My hair by this point, I’ve pulled into a pony tail. which he pulls, rather forcefully from time to time, again watching my eyes and body language closely to know if he’s gone too far. I often stopped him, when he would ask through expression or word “okay?” to say, “context.” Meaning, at a club, no, in a relationship, maybe.
We did not dance, though we were often on the dance floor so I could keep an eye on my drunk friends. Early on at the club, he tried to kiss me. I pulled him by the hand, off the dance floor and where we could not be seen, and asked him “are you trying to kiss me?” He said yes, so I leaned forward and kissed him. It was really great. We begin really kissing, and I lead him by the hand to the empty ladies room and pull him into a stall. (Don’t judge me.)
Essentially, I have no problem kissing a stranger with whom I’ve been hanging out for 6 hours or so, but I don’t want to kiss him in public. Eh. So we’re just kissing and it’s really funny because we’re in a disgusting bathroom on Christmas day and we know quickly that we have excellent chemistry. We start to hear voices and I giggle, as did he. Eventually, enough people come in, and with only two working stalls, I told him we had to pull ourselves together and leave. He thinks of baseball or whatever men do to calm themselves down and follows me out of the stall, where I see D’s female friend doing her makeup. I essentially shove him out of the door and stop to say hi to her. She asks “were you doing coke?” And I said, honestly, no, I wanted to kiss him and didn’t want to do it in the club. She said, oh, that’s cool, but if you were doing coke … Ugh, whatever. Not my thing, at all.
She then says, why did your friend FM leave? He seemed really cool. She gets very obvious about the fact that she liked him. I said, yes, he liked you.
I rejoined PR just off the dancefloor where we would occasionally kiss and then resume watching our drunk friends. At one point, I asked him to go dance with the girls because there was a drunk guy hanging all over them, then the guy said, well, if your guy is dancing with my girl, then you have to dance with me. I have an excellent icy stare, apparently, which served me well.
End of the night: after PR asked repeatedly to come back to my place to makeout, despite my three good reasons why he shouldn’t (dogsitting, sick kitty, period), we get all the drunk people into separate cabs, which, as it’s 3 am on Christmas night was quite challenging, and I turned to him and said, uh, where do you live?