A HOT GIRL STORY

A night out always ended in one of two ways: either i found this week’s love of my life right off the bat and I caught an early cab home for a night of popcorn and reality shows; or I spent the entire evening fending off the smitten males who went on high alert the moment my big toe entered the room.

This night was going in the direction of option number two. I didn’t see any hot prospects at first glance. But the bar was the place to be in this city on a saturday night. The place was packed with the crowd spilling onto the back patio to enjoy the warm summer night, and the music was thumping at a higher shout level. All eyes turned to the door when I walked in. A path cleared as my blond hair hanging past my hips wiggled the way onto the dance floor.

A man followed, because I couldn’t get my groove on without him. I’m a better dancer than others and they steal all my moves from me. It’s true. I’ve got that going for me, at least not that anyone notices my dark haired friend with the thick ankles. His shadow certainly swallows me whole, but not everyone wants to be in the spotlight. Suits me just fine.

We danced to the hip song of the moment and soon enough, a few gutsy girls left the security of the scattered tables and joined us. Then men crowded the floor, probably wondering if they should come for the top and approach me or pick one of us girls like they could flirt with us first. For the most part, men at bars are idiots and I know it.

I bumped a man back hard enough that he had to catch his balance. “If you mean the blonde, yes, I am.”

He out came another bad dance move, with him jiggling his hands like he was shaking all himself. 

I shook my head and gave him the bad news. “Not exactly. We will dance again tomorrow. This is kind of a last hurrah.”

A group of college guys had separated me from him, but I seemed to be enjoying myself between two of them, so I made my way over to the bar and sat on a stool.

I shook a hand and a shiver shot down to my toes. Damn, this guy was cute, and those strong hands were certainly capable of more interesting things than serving those clowns at a bar.

Unfortunately, contestant number two approached before I could finish talking. I sighed dramatically. I should just hold up a sign that says, “I'm not available”.