John entered the bar just like anyone else would. Wearing clothes, walking, and thirsty in every sense of the word. He lacked his confidence though, something he never really seemed to have. This isn't to say that John was a loser, he just didn't have any confidence whatsoever. And I know what you're thinking, spineless character within a story, that means that we're supposed to feel sorry for this poor bastard because he's a fuckup, and we need to be able to sympathize with various different aspects of his life because once we sympathize with that character it allows us to root for them when they inevitably get what they want in the end because the story needs a happy ending or else no one is going to read the sequel and all interest on the story will be lost because the ending sucked, and no one's going to watch a sequel to a movie that sucked. Think about one movie that was terrible when you first saw it, and then think about a sequel that ended up doing way better. Birds of Prey doesn't count, that was just a spin-off movie that successfully attempted to re-brand DC all because we saw Gotham during the day.
Anyways, this all besides the point. What I'm trying to say is that he was just not special. There's always something special about the main character of a story. Either he's a quirky character and doesn't get along with the outside world, or he's just a great guy that can really get along with everyone, except for his family because that's how all funny people are. All comedians have some terrible shit in their past that they'd rather not deal with, so instead, they go into comedy. But John, just didn't really have too much going for him. He was average. Perfectly average. Which isn't good, because that means that he does average on everything that he does. He did average in school, he does average work in an average way, and he's never bored, and never says anything boring, but that doesn't make it interesting either. He didn't have anything special about him, he was just simply average, and he always would be. The only time he would ever really catch a break was when he would make people laugh accidentally, and then things would go a little different for him.
When John sat down at the bar, the Bartender immediately grabbed a mug and was about to pour a beer into it. John put his hand up, and the bartender looked at him, confused. Then John spoke.
"Get me a martini, dry, no olives."
"Whoa, tough day, Johnny boy?" The Bartender grabbed everything he needed for a martini and began to shake.
"Yeah, I can't do this shit anymore. It's my job again."
"Dead end?"
"No, it's not a dead end. I could keep going at my company, but there's just nothing great about it. I mean, I like what I do, but that's it. I want to love what I do, and I just, don't."
"Well, what's stopping you from getting a better job?"
"I don't have the experience."
"Well, you've got some good experience, you've been working for that company for five years now."
"Yeah, but that's not enough for me to be able to find something better. I need a hook!"
"Listen here," He poured John's drink slowly, to allow for all of his advice to be given before he was able to take a sip, "If you want a hook, I'll buy you a fishing pole, just find something out there that you love, and pursue it."
John heard the door to the bar open, and the people who entered were loud. They couldn't stop being loud, and all of John's thoughts were interrupted by the constant laughter and noise that made it's way through the door.
"Look what the cat dragged in."
"Hey, those are my newest customers. They buy at least six pitchers of beer a night for themselves alone."
John looked at the group and counted four people in the group.
"Where do they put it?"
"I don't know, but they're keeping me in business. Plus, they can really hold their liquor. Especially Tracey."
"Tracey?" John looked back at the group of people who were unable to keep their voices down and saw a woman with blonde hair. It was radiant, and shined with the lights. Her eyes were gems and her skin was-
"Yeah, the redhead over there who's gonna come over here soon to ask for a round of shots."
Oh my bad, I talked up the wrong girl, author's mistake. He then looked over at the ginger who sat in her chair, she was beautiful. Her beauty was incapable of being matched, and he found himself staring at her. Her beauty was more natural, she didn't need to rely on makeup to be pretty, she just-
"Shoot, did I say redhead? I meant the brunette."
Are you shitting me? I'm sorry, I haven't told this story in a while, but when I do, I forget the fake-outs. Trust me, once you get past the first part, it gets a lot better. It's a favorite of mine, a classic. The point is, the girl was hot. I'm not gonna sit here and use fancy words a third time to describe this girl, okay? She had brown hair, green eyes, a pretty face and she was hot, okay? Out of the three women, she was the best looking.
Anyways, the group of four people was comprised of the three women, of which I've all described by now, and their gay friend, Brian, who wasn't quite out of the closet yet. He knew he was gay, but he wasn't comfortable saying it around other people. His friends knew, of course, they had been friends with him for years, that's some intuition you pick up on. Also, the redhead walked in on him jerking off to some hardcore orgy porn with like 15 men, so, it's an understatement to say it was obvious. She told her girlfriends, the blonde and Tracey, expecting that he would come out of the closet soon, but he didn't say anything about it. Tracey, the blonde and the redhead promised that they wouldn't tell anyone, because it wasn't their place to out their friend if he hadn't even come out to them.
And yes, I realize it's messed up to reference to the girls only by their hair color but the only one that really matters in this story is Tracey, and I'm not gonna go through the trouble of making up two names for the girls that end up having barely any context in the situation other than the fact that they need to be friends of Tracey so she's not alone in a bar, while also showing that she could do better than John, but whatever. It's also more realistic if she's not alone, but you get the point. Get offended if you want, I really don't care. You don't have to finish this story.
Where was I? I actually forgot.
Oh yeah, three girls and a guy hanging out at a bar. Tracey ended up coming over to the Bartender, just like he said she would, and she asked for some drinks. Guess what she asked for?
"Can I get a round of shots for my table, thanks Gunther." My writing's predictable, definitely, and I probably could've just had a surprise line where she shows up unannounced and orders drinks for everyone, effectively introducing her character, but that's stupid. It's been done before, and writing's about being creative, assholes. If you're gonna be a critic, you can go drink tea and input your rating on movies for Rotten Tomatoes. If you want to enjoy a good story, then don't think about it.
"No problem, Trace." She sat there, waiting for her drinks and she was next to John. He looked over at her and smiled. He thought about telling Her to quiet down, and then realized that it might come off as rude, and advised against it.
"Oh, can you pass me that glass over there?" Tracey pointed to an empty glass that was out of her reach, but on the other side of John. He couldn't quite hear her properly, and wanted to know what she said.
"I'm sorry?" He craned his neck and payed more attention to what she had said.
"That's okay, never mind." Tracey reached over John's body and grabbed the empty, but still wet, glass that was nearby. She grazed her hand past his cheek and when she moved the glass she spilled a few drops of...whatever was inside that glass on his pants. Don't worry, it wasn't near his dick or anything, I'm not gonna try to squeeze in a piss joke into an erotic story. Shit, I hope I didn't spoil anything to come. Moving right along, John looked at her and was very offended. He would never do anything like that to anyone he didn't know, he wouldn't even do it to a best friend. Sadly, he didn't have any best friends, only regular friends that he knew surprisingly well.
"Excuse me," John spoke to Tracey and tapped her on her arm to make sure she knew he was talking to her.
"Yeah?" Her 'yeah' was confusing. He couldn't tell if that was 'yeah, what do you want from you you fruitcake looking weirdo? I'm just tryna get back with my friends so make this quick.' or if it had more of a kind tone, like, 'yeah, you called me? What's up, stranger?' He spoke before he could figure her out.
"Um, hi. I'm John, and I didn't really like the way that you reached over me to get your drink."
"Oh it wasn't my drink, it was just a random one lying around. When I see those I like to bring them to Gunther, make his job a little easier when he's gotta clean up the place."
"Well, you still could've asked me to pass you the glass." Her actions seemed nice, but her tone didn't indicate that. He felt like he was being mean by continuing his argument but he still continued nonetheless.
"I did, and you didn't hear me, and I wasn't about to repeat myself."
"Well you could've gone around me."
"It's a fucking glass, I'm not going all the way around you and walking around any more than I have to. It's a sleazy bar and enough guys are assholes as it is."
"Well maybe you shouldn't go to such a sleazy bar."
"All bars are sleazy bars."
John thought well about his next response. Tracey definitely knew her way around a conversation, and even seemed to be smarter than he was. He couldn't let himself lose though, not to a complete stranger. Pride is one hell of a drug.
"Okay, well then if all bars are sleazy bars, then didn't you think that there's a chance that I'm one of the scumbags who's gonna try and take advantage of you, instead of being a nice guy and just maintaining my distance?"
"The usual, four tequila shots." The Bartender walked in with the four shot glasses on a platter for her to take to her friends. "Sorry it took me so long, I had to go to the back to get more tequila, I didn't even know we were running low up here."
She looked at the Bartender and held up her hand as he scooted the glasses over to her, she looked back at John.
"Because," Tracey had a response all fired up, and she let John have it just because she could destroy him. He was also being a bit of an insufferable ass, so he did kinda deserve it.
"You are one of those guys that works a regular nine to five job that barely contributes anything to the world when it comes to your work. Your button down short tells me you work in business, but the lack of a tie means that it's not too serious business."
"What if I took my tie off?"
"Then it would be in your car, which it isn't."
"How'd you know that?"
"I didn't. You also look like the kinda guy who would buy a beer, am-i-right? But today you were feeling special, and not a good kind of special, because if you were you'd have a smile on your face and you wouldn't have complained about me reaching over you and you would've bought a round of free drinks for everyone. Well, at least a few people here. So now you're drinking a martini, extra dry?"
"You got it." The Bartender chimed in.
She looked at the Bartender, "Thanks, Gunther," then she looked back at John, "and you can't stop thinking about your lackluster, non-shitty life that you're stuck with because you can't think for yourself worth your life. Did I leave anything out? Oh yes, your name! I almost forgot about your name. Non-important people like you have names that could be important or regular, like Steve or Mark, but you have more of a name that's so perfectly between mundane and important that literally any man could be named accordingly, so I'd have to say that my best guess is one of two names, I'm gonna go with John. Now, is my analysis incorrect?" He looked at her in awe, in complete disbelief. He'd never seen anyone read him like that, not a stranger at least.
"No, you hit the nail right on the head."
"Thank you." She grabbed her shot and downed right in front of him. She drank it like it was water, whereas anytime he tried doing shots it looked like he was trying to drink some gross flavored medicine. Also, to all you people who think grape flavored is the worst flavor of medicine, you can all eat my ass. Grape is fucking delicious! Orange is the nastiest flavor. Bubblegum is definitely the best, but grape is a close second. That shit is delicious, and one of the easiest flavors to get down, so fuck any of you who disagree.
Back to the important topic, Tracey and John. Tracey drank her shot, then put the glass inside the other empty glass she grabbed earlier.
"Here you go, Gunther, I hope I helped."
"You always do, let me know if I can do anything for you, Trace."
"Of course. Get John one drink of whatever he wants, put it on my tab." Tracey grabbed her shot glasses for her friends and started to walk away and bring them to her table.
"Wait," John got up and faced her. He smiled slyly, he couldn't help but be impressed by her, "What was your other guess? You said you had narrowed my name down to two options. One was John, what was the other?"
She looked at him and smiled. His smile was too average, just enough to make her smile back, but not enough to feel special in any way. Average. Perfectly average. A gift and a curse all in one, stopping him from being anything more than just a fling.
"Jonathan." She walked away with her friends, and when she placed down the shots she looked back at him, he looked back too and just laughed.
There was something about her though. Her smile and her mannerisms, her perfect beauty with everything else that was a part of her. He just wanted to be with her, even if it were only for one night of passion and he knew their relationship would go nowhere. He just needed it. That raw, intense feeling of being close to someone that only sex could provide. Sweaty and hot, passionate yet sweet, the perfect combination of sexy and sweet at the same time. Nothing else would enter his mind, but this lusting. A lusting for Tracey, and this longing to talk to her again.