Waiting for nothing

Though anatomically impossible, a gal can have balls. I may be afraid of roaches. I don't like to touch the subway pole on the train. But sometimes I have random acts of braveness.

I was at a bar with my girlfriend for someone's birthday. I went up to visit the ladies' room. I came back and saw a guy sitting in my spot chatting her up. He was about to get up but I, not wanting to bust their groove, insisted he stay there while I get a drink. I looked at the bar and searched for gaps between idling patrons to hail the bartender to order a drink. There were two visible gaps. One was near a group of guys and girls chatting with each other. The other was near a guy standing by himself, smoking a cigarette and drinking a beer. From a distance in the dim room, the guy looked semi-cute. I walked toward gap #2.

I stood there. He stood there. He kept reaching across me to tap his cigarette into the ash tray right in front of me. Come on, that's an in, I thought. He didn't say anything. He eventually drew the ash try closer to him and continued being mute. I ordered my drink, waited there and "looked around the room" -- a.k.a. turned my head to check him out up close. He passed the Up Close Test.

I got my drink, paid for it and started to sip on it. Okay you've had a few drinks. Just talk, I thought to myself. I turned to him. "So are you here for the birthday thing?" I said. He looked at me. "Um, no I'm just here to have a beer and chill."

"Oh I see," I said.

"Who's the birthday thing for?"

"That girl"--I pointed--"but I only know her through that girl"--and pointed again.

"I see."

And so we struck up a conversation, asking and answering the trite introductory questions like Are you from the city? What do you do? Where are you from? Do you come to this bar a lot? Seemed like a cool guy.

At the end of the night, there was a new entry in his phone: Yellow Gal.

Now if only he would call me.