Just when you thought you’d give up trying to meet a nice guy in a bar, ‘Mr. Perfect’ walked into your life. You’d faced so many jerks, creeps, douche bags, and possibly even a few sexual predators, that you were starting to think that was the only kind of guy who went to bars in Pittsburgh.
“I honestly I don’t understand why I even come out anymore,” you lamented to your friends as you sat with your dirty martini in the back of the bar, speculating the selection of specimens available that night. “That guy, right there-I’m positive he lives with his mom. And the guy with the mustache? Come on, he must be at least 45.”
“Calm down (Y/N), you’ll make people stare,” your friend responded, hiding behind her drink. “Mustache guy isn’t that old. In fact, I’m going to talk to him,” she replied smugly and slid off her chair to approach him.
“Whatever,” you sighed, and your friend gave you a worried look. “I know what you’re thinking, but at this point, I’d be happier staying at home looking at Match.com with my cats then trying to find a guy in this crowd.”
“Please, it’s not that bad! What about this guy?” Your friend pointed to a guy at the bar talking up some blonde. “Or that tall guy who just walked in? Actually, his friend is pretty hot. I’ll be right back,” she shot you a smile and slipped off her chair to see this ‘hot’ guy she was talking about. He looked about 15 and you guessed his favorite drink was probably fruit flavored.
Rolling your eyes, now alone at your table, you sighed and took out your phone. It must be easier to find a decent boyfriend online, right? About to DOWNLOAD the Tinder app, you got distracted as someone set his drink down on your table. You were about to tell him off and point out that this table was taken, but when you looked up you realized it was him: the guy your friend had pointed out. He actually was pretty hot. But there must be a twist….maybe he likes kinky stuff, or has a crazy ex-girlfriend. There’s always a twist.
“Sorry, I noticed you sitting alone after your friend rushed off to talk to my friend, I thought, maybe, it would be okay if I sat here for a bit?” He smiled and shrugged. With a smile like that, you couldn’t turn him down.
“Go ahead, have a seat,” you moved your purse out of the way and he sat down across from you. Wow, he really was tall.
“I’m Rob, by the way,” he introduced himself, and smiled again. Damn, that smile.
“(Y/N), nice to meet you.”
“That’s a pretty name. Are you here with anyone, or just friends?”
“Just friends. They’ve all run off though,” you looked around trying to find one of the three other girl’s you’d come with.
“Yeah, I came with one of my teammates. Looks like he and your friend really hit it off.” He was staring at someone behind you with a smirk, so you turned around to find your friend with her tongue halfway down his friend’s throat.
“Teammate?” You asked, assuming he played pickup soccer, or ultimate Frisbee.
“Yeah, Beau and I play for the Penguins,” he explained, sounding a little embarrassed, but laughed.
“Really? That’s too bad,” you jokingly shook your head. “Up until that point, I was thinking you were pretty great. But hockey? Come on…” you smiled and laughed. “I’m just kidding, I don’t really care. As long as you’re not a creep, and you don’t live with your parents.”
“Okay,” he gave you a confused smile, but took out his phone. “How about I get your number, and we get dinner sometime?”
Blushing, you gave him your digits and prayed this went okay. Because in the end, he really was Mr. Perfect compared to all the jerks you’d dated recently. Or, compared to anyone else, for that matter.
-Lila
