Last night's fling

Last night was adventure-filled, in the classic BeckyBumblefuck way. One of my favorite Chicago bands was in town (well, sort of, I’m generously including New Haven as “my town”) and I decided that I was going for a listen, with or without accompaniment. So I showed up to Bar a bit after 8 (the posted time the bands were starting) to find that The Reputation would not actually play for at least another 3 hours. I was forced to do the sure-fire thing for unwanted boy attention: sit alone at a bar and drink. The bartender kicked it off by responding to my query about any specials with, “I’m the only very special thing behind this bar [wink].” I was able to dodge any meaningful glances for awhile after that, mostly by intently reading beer descriptions, peeling labels off of bottles, and studying the Toulouse-Lautrec painting that was the art centerpiece, until I was invited to sit with Elizabeth (the band’s frontwoman) and her girlfriends. They were ultracool, and shit-can they order a pizza! Without being hungry, I was soon consuming a clam/bacon/hot pepper pizza, with fresh lime juice squeezed over it. After a bit, they needed a smoke and I soon found myself designated the beer/purse guardian for the table, which simultaneously was a perfect opportunity for the smelliest man in the bar to approach me. Before I knew it, this man’s hand was around my waist and I was being asked over for Turkish coffee, out for Mexican food, and told that I needed to visit his large, seaside Turkish home. Yeah, well. Let me think about it, sir. OK, done. No. Amusingly and randomly, he asked if I was British (not a very good judge of accents, obviously.) Finally, my newly acquired girlfriends returned, (before I had agreed to anything that I would seriously regret in my half-drunker state) and caught the gist of my “save me!” eyes. Unfortunately, this did not completely put off Turkish man, but enough that I felt comfortable. In an effort to avoid unwanted quality time, I rode around in a foreign car delivering one of the girls back home, and then I found myself in the other girl’s architecture office, pondering why I hadn’t chosen that field... AH well. We did finally hear our band and get a nice goodbye hug from the frontwoman. Then I said goodbye to the random girl, Nicholetta, whom I will likely never see again, but whom I will be forever grateful for rescuing me that night. Even she classified the night as, “one to go into the book...” (or blog, as I would have it... ;) ) Oh, and an anti-shoutout to the tall, blonde man-on-the-street who followed up a comment with how beautiful I was with a “Fuck-you” as I continued to walk down the street. Sorry, I wasn’t about to bed you, sir.