The Adventures of Bob Smith

A Night at the Bar

-- Alex --

I'll never forget the day I met Bob Smith.  Yeah, I know.  Everybody says that about someone, but this was different.

I was supposed to meet some friends at this pub downtown.  When I got there, I headed straight up to the bar.  I don't like crowds, but I needed to look around and see if I could spot them.

From the bar, I began surveying the room.  It was kinda dim in there, so it was hard to see into the furthest corners of the bar.  All the usual fixtures were there, though.  There were tables of guys, drinking away their work week.  Tables of girls, some of them with a single drunk guy trying to coax away one of their number.  I wasn't too early, so I should have been able to spot my friends waiting for me.

I didn't have time to search the whole bar.  I'd only been standing there for a few seconds when a guy came up behind me.

"Hey, don't think I've seen you here before.  You come here often?"

I turned to see who it was, not that it could be anybody I'd know.  He was kinda tall, but definitely heavy.  He had dark hair that was receding back over his forehead and afternoon stubble from the day's growth.  He changed his tune as soon as he got a good look at my face.

"Whoa.  Sorry, thought you were somebody else."

Yeah, I'll bet you did, you stupid jerk.  You know, I went to a lot of trouble that night.  I had my best jeans on, the ones that really make my butt look great.  There was that, and this red low-cut v-neck and a push-up bra.  Dammit, I was looking hot, and this moron just decides to blow me off.  What the hell did he know anyway?  He was probably already drunk.

While that dolt went back to his corner, I turned to the bar and leaned forward a bit to get the bartender's attention.  Cleavage never fails.

"Gimme a beer!"

I stood there, leaning against the bar, fuming over the idiot and waiting for my drink.  That's when, out of the corner of my eye, I noticed another goober coming up beside me.  I cocked my head a bit to look at him.  He was a bit thinner than the other guy, and not too tall.  Overall, he was pretty unremarkable.

I didn't turn my head to look at him, just sneered and talked out of the corner of my mouth.

"You come to gawk now, too?"

"What?  No, I just wanted to apologize for my..."  He was such a doofus.  If that was his best pickup line, he belonged back in the sticks with all the rednecks.

"Don't worry.  It happens all the time."

"It doesn't bother you?"

"Of course it bothers me.  But you get used to it."

That's when the bartender got back and plopped my drink down on the bar.

"That's seven bucks."

I reached into my pocket for a ten, but as soon as I got it out, the goofball reached up to stop me.  As soon as he touched my hand, I jerked my head around and looked him square in the face.  That's something I don't usually do.  You see, I knew what made his stupid friend freak out.  You see I have this, uh... blemish.  Usually, I hold my head a little to the left, not that that really hides it.  I'm just self-conscious about it.  OK, fine.  It's not really a blemish.  I have this childhood scar that cuts across the whole side of my face.  There, I admitted it.  You happy now?

Anyways, this guy was different from anyone I'd ever met before.  Most guys, as soon as they see that side of my face, they look like they need an airsick bag.  He didn't even flinch.  If you can believe it, he actually acted like he didn't even notice.  I know I didn't believe it at the time.

"I hope you enjoy the rest of your evening."

"Thanks."

With that, he just turned and went back to his table with the other bozo and their dopey friends.

Seriously, what was wrong with this guy?  He just comes up, buys me a drink and says have a nice night.  For a second there, I thought maybe I'd gotten lucky and found a guy who could look past the obvious and give me the same chance as anyone else.  Then, just as quick, he was gone.  I stood there a moment, just shaking my head.

I took a gulp of my beer and turned back toward the room.  Finally, I spotted my own friends in a corner booth.  Of course, I made my way over to them.

"You guys been just sitting there the whole time?"

"Yeah."  Shirley looked up from her drink and pulled apart her straight brown hair so that I could see her face.  I know she means well, and usually I could sit and babble on about just about anything for hours on end with all of them. 

"And you didn't come out and say anything?"

"You were like the belle of the bar up there."  I felt like they had been laughing at me up there, embarrassing myself.  "The guys were coming out of the woodwork just to talk to you."

"Yeah.  'Till they got a good look at me.  Then they were like 'Eww, that's what you look like?  Never mind.'"

"Come on.  Don't let a couple douchebags ruin your night.  Sit down and have a drink."

It was too late for that.  Those two really did put me into a foul mood.

"No thanks."  I waved my hand like I was giving up, which I was.  "You know I hate this kind of place.  I'm just gonna call it a night."

"Oh, come on.  You can't go home already.  You just got here."

I knew how the night would end if I stayed.  One by one, all the guys would go through the same motions.  Then, as the night wore on, they'd get drunker, and they wouldn't mind looking at a marked woman, but I would mind talking to drunken morons.

"Those guys just put me in a foul mood.  I'm going home."

I turned around and left.