douchier than thou

I went out last night and sat alone at the bar. The bartender recognized me and greeted me warmly, making me wonder just how much I drunkenly tipped him last week. We chatted about sports and listened to the live music, and he poured me an excellent Manhattan. I was in my happy place.

A very pretty girl soon sat two seats down from me, and the predictable feeding frenzy ensued. More guys introduced themselves to her in five minutes than have introduced themselves to me in five years. The douchiest of these sat in the chair between us, and he droned and droned and droned some more, insufferably, without end, about himself. I could not avoid hearing it. His banalities corroded my soul. I prayed for the sweet release of death. I was denied.

"Check please," I said.

The bartender was surprised. I gestured my head at the guy next to me and bulged my eyes in the international sign for "I'm five minutes away from splattering Summer's Eve Fresh Scent all over the bar."

I left and returned two hours later. No sign of the douche or the girl. While I waited for the bartender, I chatted with the woman next to me about whether I could pull off the pinstripes and bow-tie another guy was wearing. We were nearing a consensus of "not even remotely" when the bartender noticed me.

"You're back!"

"Yeah. That douche was killing brain cells, man. I couldn't take it anymore. Just tell me that that chick didn't leave with him!"

"Agh, werf, blurk," he replied with uncharacteristic awkwardness.

Eventually, the woman left, and the bartender raced over to me. "You know why I couldn't answer your question, right?"

I had a feeling.....now. "Because that was the same girl as before?"

"YES! Are you blind?!"

Now this is unfair. I am not blind. I noticed she was pretty both times, after all. My brain is impaired, not my eyes.