Bar Night – March 23, 2007 (abbreviated – as I can’t focus lately)
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Let’s talk about Jochen for a moment – the German gentlemen who lurves me.
German, businessman, English not too good.
He’s spent the last three or four weeks trying to convince me that spending time with a kindly older gentleman would be good for me. There is the “respect” and no one would know (finger to lips, please). I point to the rings on my left hand and he waves them off because (and here I paraphrase because I can’t possibly do him justice) “80% of married people don’t stay married.” I tell him that I am not in that 80%, that there may be “respect” but clearly paying me for my company knocks that down a few notches.
He usually has a beer, but tonight he bought me a drink, which I’ve been told I shouldn’t refuse, and he launches into his pitch again on why I could be a very well paid companion. All I would have to do is go get a drink and we would talk and money finds its way into my pocket.
Yeah, I’m still not buying it.
It boils down to this: I don’t mind being gifted. There are some very generous people out there who have a few extra dollars and think about me when they’re out. I appreciate this people muchly. However, I resent being bought. Being paid for my companionship smacks of prostitution, and regardless of how charming his broken English puts it, I still say no.
Three weeks ago, during the Hamtramck Blowout, we had a band in here – STEVIE. Fantastic performer with some really good music. Wished he could have brought a few more people in, but he put on great show. When we have him back in three or four weeks, I’d like to have a huge crowd. About midway through his show, a trio wanders in, probably from down the street. They balk at the cover charge, and the gentleman with the group talks them into staying because he’s tired walking. They sit at the bar, and are LOUD, complaining about the music, complaining about the cover charge, complaining about the lack of people, etc…
They brighten considerably when I tell them that our bottle domestic beers are $2.00. They order six. They drink the duration of STEVIE’S show and quiet down when they realize that I am neither cowed nor impressed by the levels of the intoxication. I smile politely and serve them and they quickly understand that I am not some bubbleheaded barmaid who is living for their tips. Fortunately they leave within an hour, pay by credit card and leave two dollars and some pennies in tips.
The brother in law is in town again, and despite promises that he’d stay as far away from me as possible, he’s currently at my place, eating potato chips on my couch and watching golf. Meanwhile, I’m in a coffeehouse in an uncomfortable chair, and yes, I’ve done some research on the novel, I’m incredibly pissed that he lacks the common sense to understand that I’d rather he spend his downtime playing in traffic. I absolutely resent that I have to be the one to keep the peace and either spend time in the bedroom or out of the apartment altogether because he can’t find more constructive places be.
It’s been a fairly lousy week for me, and other than two very nice brightspots, I haven’t been my happy self.
Will the Little Black Books check in please.
I haven’t heard a word from them in a few weeks. Australia and Maryland – I’m looking in your direction.