So there is a bartender that resembles the man in the picture. He is freaking tall, with glossy black hair and an equally beautiful bushy black beard that I have fantasized about. We always check each other out when we’re both in the bar. But because he is always working and I feel super uncomfortable bothering him when he actually has shit to do, we have never had a chance to talk..... until last night.
I come from the bathroom and see him walking in. Oh. My. God. Do I really get the chance to actually have a conversation? Finally? My friend points out that he has been checking me hard and I see we’re very interested in each other. So, bless my friend’s heart, she literally pushes me to talk to him. And it is going great. He lets me play with his beard, he tries to see my afro (it is hidden under a headwrap). When I say I’m leaving to go to the bathroom, he tells me to come back. And mentions that he does not have a girlfriend. Things can’t get better.
Until, the woman he is with starts talking about politics. I should have shut up. But my drunk brain loves a good conversation / debate and I follow the path down its terrible end. We talk about wages and I say that I like the country I live in now because they pay people proper salaries. She says that in America, businesses make small profits. I ask if she is a business owner. She doesn’t answer. I should have read the freaking clue. But no, stupid Storm says the following,
Conversation comes to a screeching halt. The hot guy says, “this is uncomfortable,” and I slink away with my head down appalled at what just happened. I think the woman was his boss and they were visiting their partner bar for the night. And instead of waking up with my fingers in his beard, I woke up with my head in my hands, cringing at my lack of tact. Damn