Missed Chances

I just returned home from Rooster's and I don't even know where to begin. I just feel like I need to get this onto the blog. This post is going to make Whatta cry. The following is a recap of encounters that I had at Rooster's the last two Thursday's. Nothing is embellished.

Last Thursday:
I run into a guy I used to play ball with and we start shooting the shit at the bar. I notice that there is a girl that is mugging me. Hard. She's staring; the kind of staring where when they walk by their head turns on a swivel and they never break eye contact. So, I approach. I say hello and ask her name (which I don't remember). She's staring into my eyes. After a little bit of small talk I ask her if she's alright.
her: Yeah, why?
me: It's just that you haven't blinked in, like, ten minutes.
her: I'm just a little infatuated.
me:....(internal monologue: JACKPOT!)
At this point she's pressed up against me and she's got her hand in the front pocket of my jeans.
her: I think you're trouble.
me: (my inner Trent Walker telling me to be the guy in the rated R movie) I think you're in trouble.
This happens to be the pocket in which I keep my money clip, so I'm paying attention. I reach down and take her buy the hand.
me: You're not trying to take my money are you?
her: No, but I do have my hand in your pocket.
me. cool.
her: Yeah, you lost me.
She just turns and walks away. I go home. Alone. Again.

Tonight
I've been at the bar for about two hours and I've danced a few times but I'm not really getting a good vibe from any of the ladies. I grab the one available bar stool and settle in for a few beers.
The guy on the stool next to me leaves and a young lady asks if the seat is taken. I invite her to sit down.
Her: I think they've over served me.
Me: Oh, yeah. You been drinkin' Miller Light all night or have you mixed in a few shots o' Jack?
Her: I drank a bottle of wine before I came here.
Me: That'll do it. What's your name?
Her: Bones.
Me: Um, What?
Her: Bones.

Editor's note: That's not a nickname I gave her. She said her name was Bones. Seriously.

Her: I can't believe I got this drunk tonight. I have to go to work tomorrow.
Me: Who gives a shit. You don't drive a school bus for a living do you?
Her: No. I'm a dental assistant. I used to go out and drink all the time and I was kinda fucked up when I was, like, 23. Then I was normal for awhile, but now I'm 27 and I'm like fuck it. I've been drinking a lot again. I'm still normal sometimes though when I'm not being all bipolar and scizho. (I swear to god. I'm not making this up.)
Me: (Somehow feeling like I should have seen this coming) I hear ya.
Her: I'm 27, but I was out walking my dog and this 16 yr old was talking to me and he was, like, what high school do you go to? Ha! Can you believe it? I was like, "Good thing you didn't say that to me when I was drunk in a bar. I probably would have had sex with you."

Poof! Devil on one shoulder and angel on the other...
Devil: We all know the psychotic chics are great in the sack. This is your chance to stop being a nice guy and have some porno/rodeo sex. UNLEASH THE FURY!
Angel: You do not want any part of this mental patient. If there is one thing you have learned about women it's that when they warn you ahead of time that they're nuts; Believe Them.

Her: Did you come in here looking to meet a nice girl?
Me: I wouldn't come in here for that.

At this point a big greasy biker comes over and starts talking to her. They obviously know each other. I'm being ignored now so I get up and go to the bathroom.

Now I'm home. Alone. Again. Blogging at 2:36AM.

PS. I witnessed a young man get mauled by a cougar tonight. It was amazing. It actually appeared as though she rocked back on her haunches and pounced. As they tongue wrestled to a draw I actually laughed out loud. I remember thinking to myself how funny it would be if the bar could play that wildcat roar sound effect that Uof A uses at their football games.