The next one in line

As Aaliyah once said, "If at first you don't succeed, dust yourself off and try again." After I got rejected by one bartender at my home away from home, I wasn't giving up.... on bartenders. I need my unlimited free drinks, after all.

I moved on to the next one. In reality, he was probably the best match for me from the beginning, but he didn't have the let-me-rub-you-now appearance than Armani did. He was the life of the party, though, and the beating heart of my Friday nights as the shots flowed through my and my friends' veins. Plus, he was a scrumptious shade of dark chocolate. Suddenly there was a twinkle in my eye for him.

Unacceptable. I don't get twinkly eyes... Especially for bartenders. They're basically indoor hookers.

... but I did. And I flashed those suckers in his direction as much as I could.

"Where's Armani? Here's your shots, now go fuck him."

That was rude, but I tried to explain that I never wanted Armani, that I was always trying to make him jealous.

Actually... I would never be so stupid to think that would work. Sparkles was clearly in control at this point, and there was no turning back.

"Baby boyyyyy.... You knowww it's always been about youuuu. I hear there's a liquor closet upstairs... Wanna playyy with meeee?"

(Dear God and sweet baby Jesus... Sparkles has NO game.)

He quickly looked up from the next batch of magical drinks he was making us and gave me the look.

"Give me a minute. I'll meet you upstairs."

FINE.

Wait.... WHAT? Apparently Sparkles had actually pulled this one off. I winked at my friends and ran upstairs and casually waited near the door. We sneaked in a little later and sucked each other's faces while crashing into walls of liquor. Clearly we had to wait. I told my posse it was okay for them to leave me at the bar, that I had somewhere to stay. They knew the deal.

Well after 4am we finally left the bar and headed to his apartment. Before we walked in, and after another steamy make-out session, he dropped a bomb.

"My mom and daughter are upstairs in my mom's room. We'll have to be quiet."

Fantastic. Is it impossible to find a completely available man who doesn't have any baggage in this city? Apparently not, but let's be real- since when does Sparkles care about baggage?

We stripped down in his bedroom and walked to the bathroom down the hall. Had his 60 year old mother or five year old daughter walked out, they would have thought they were in a pornographic dream.

There was no stopping us. We took advantage of every millimeter of that shower. We bathed every centimeter of each other. Then we inched back to the bed.

He explored me more, and obviously wanted something in return, but Sparkles had washed away in the shower, and I'm not one to guarantee reciprocation.

"I'm tired. I can't do this anymore. Thank you, but let's go to sleep and talk in the morning."

Oh, yeah. I pulled that line, and I was happy to do so. He was mad, but he accepted it. Was this the beginning of a beautiful thing? Only boyfriends or soon-to-be's accept a no-sex-on-the-first-night rule after all the naked grinding we had already done...

There's no telling where this will go, but one thing is for sure- He's my new bartender boyfriend.

One classy hook-up

It's really no surprise that if there's a place I'm going to call "my home away from home," it's a bar that I go to all the time. Every Friday, to be exact.. Tuesdays and Saturdays are also likely to be spent there. When you frequent a place, people get to know you, you get free drinks, and if you know how to twerk it on the dance floor- you'll have people wanting you every night. Bad.

Some of the regulars would always try to touch me, but mounting them was not on my list of things to do. I had my eyes on the prize: one of the bartenders, Armani. (Yeah, apparently his parents were big fans of high fashion.) Lucky for me, he liked my white shorts that became slightly see-through after hours of dancing on the bar.

I spent a few visits doing my typical bar teases: the come-get-me eyes, quick rendezvous's on the dance floor, and drive-by make out sessions... Then we decided to take it one step further. We headed to the DJ booth, found a corner spot that wouldn't be in the way of the DJ, and started grinding.

Normally when a guy lets his hands wander when I'm dancing with him gets a hard slap. When Armani took advantage of the easy access that my white shorts offered, I let it happen, and I enjoyed it. A lot. I didn't even care if people saw or judged me. We did our thing for a few songs, then...

"Car. Now."

You'd think I would have learned my lesson about car hook-ups after the Barney incident, but the only thing I learned was to keep my clothes on. Once again, the car was rockin' and no one would be seeing what was going on, even though we were parked on the main road of the capital.

In order to "not be suspicious," we went back inside at the end of the night, and I assumed my position on top of the DJ booth, shaking my little white shorts for everyone.

!*#$&% CRASH. #@$%


Just when I thought I was the sexiest thing in that place, I had multi-flipped off the edge of the booth to my head under the table. Not sexy.


Armani rushed over to take care of me and get me water. Good news: He obviously couldn't keep his eyes off of me. Bad news: He now knew I was a hot mess of lush.

Instead of going home with him as I hoped, he found me a ride and sent me on my way with nothing more than a glass of water. The next night I headed back, sans objects inside my shorts, and sporting some decorated legs. Everyone has to have an off night every once in a while.