Cowboys And Me, The Lone Indian

I don't get it. I finally get out of the house for the evening, which is a rarity for me. And the only thing I manage to attract is the biggest loser there, who has been told outright that I am not at all interested. Even so, despite this still won't quit hanging around. What is my problem? I get all gussied up and everything, which is no small feat as it goes completely against my nature. I kept my hair down and some would argue that's more rare than a virgin birth. Okay so here's what happened.

We went to a club for a friend's second annual 29th birthday. I could sense trouble when this fella kept putting himself between me and the bar, all the while getting closer to me until finally he's parked right next to my chair. Okay fine. He's immediately told his efforts at courtship will be futile because he simply is not my type. He is a balding middleaged librarian-meets-blue collar type of guy. Not at all what I enjoy. I am more into the dark and sophisticated professional-meets-he man type, though preferably without the rampant infidelity. After all, been there done that. Anyway back to my story.

So I get up and move to the bar both for another round, and also to check out the offerings. A bar is like a giant porch light, that the moths just cannot help themselves but to run back to over and over until they drop. So I am fairly confident that I have left this guy in the dust for the time being, and I set about finally going to capture myself some attention. I am at the bar for a good half an hour waiting to get my drink. I am looking at my options and likewise they are looking me over as well. Suddenly I hear him and turn to find that he has pushed his way to the front of the line to stand next to me. Then, like some weird dolphin sonar signal given off, everyone else dissapates in his wake.

As the night wears on I come to terms with having to cut my losses this time around. I wish myself luck for next time. Apparently I'm going to need it. This guys spends the whole time at his post, next to where I am sitting. He does not ask for my number thank God. But like some socially inept goof indirectly leaves me his phone number through my friend, which we vow to dispose of at the first available opportunity. I am nearly at the exit but stop first to get my coat at the coat check. My friend and I discuss this guy while we wait and try to decide if he could possibly be a threat. When all of a sudden again low and behold, who should appear out of nowhere to bid me adieu. That's it! I'm going home. With any luck I won't have to wait until my own second annual 29th birthday to find better promise. Hear's to me and dreesing up for nothing.