The "Cougar" Knight

So I am bartending on a Thursday night, surprise surprise.  

Let me start by saying where I bartend has the lowest rate of attractive men after a Star Trek festival.  In the two years that I have worked there, I have probably seen six men that I would want to ask me out; if I was forced at gunpoint to want that. 

I don’t understand what the deal is. How can one place be such an abysmal showing of the male species . . .

This particular night we had been dead all night and then had this massive surge of college students around 11pm.  I jump off tending tables and begin helping out the bartenders with the throngs of students drinking Fireball shots and downing Miller Lites.

 

I think this is an actual a place in Australia. . .

As I am slinging shots I happen to notice an attractive man at the bar. I do a double-take.  This is a first. 

He is sitting by himself, seemingly watching some game behind me. I am craning to see him. As I focus on him, I realize that he is meeting my gaze.  I quickly look away. He’s just watching the bartending show, or the other bartender. He couldn’t possibly be looking at me?

He looks young, but maybe, not terribly younger? I can't tell anymore. Whatever age he is, he's still older than 21 and has enough confidence to come to a bar by himself.  Kudos kid.

"It's my sparkly teeth that attracted you to me."

He looks like he should pitch for a baseball team somewhere. He has one of those twisty fabric necklaces like the ball players wear, he's wearing a cotton A&F or Hollister shirt, khaki shorts and sneakers.  No tattoos, clean shaven; I'd say some military service because his cotton outfit is pressed and his light brown hair is cut short. He looks like he's super fit but I wonder if he and I are the same height. That's a deal breaker, but I am willing to roll the dice. Well, I haven't had any luck with military men yet, why stop now. 

I decide I am going to ask one of the other bartenders what his story is. He's not a regular and I have never seen him in here before. I grab my fellow bartender. . .

“Erin, there is a cute boy at the bar!" I exclaim. "This never happens!” 

“And he’s been checking you out, hard” she responds.

“Really?” I inquire.

“Yeah, he’s definitely been checking you out,” she tells me with 100% assurance. 

"Well shit. I am going to do something about this," I tell her. 

When opportunity comes a knocking, I definitely don't wanna miss the chance. 

The bar has now calmed down enough for me to get out from behind the bar and get back on tables. I begin wandering around wondering how I can get close enough to see this man. Hmmmm. . .

Part of my job is making sure that the chairs are where they should be. I realize that there is a deluge of chairs over where this man is sitting. This is my in.

I go over and ask him if he is using any of the chairs that have piled up next to him. He smiles at me and says, “Sadly, I am here alone. Feel free to take the chairs as you wish. I am not using them.”

I look at him and this just rolls off my tongue: “There’s nothing sad about it. I go out on my own all the time.” I give him a smile and a shrug and proceed to begin to pick up one of the chairs.

He stops me from picking up the chair and says “ How about some we go out some night and sit together.”

Smooth man. Super smooth. 

 

"I'm so smooth, I'm chilling this glass as I drink this martini"

For a guy that looks barely 21, he clearly knows how to pick up a chick. Sweet. He did the asking; I am in. 

I flush red.  “I’d like that,” I respond.

“Good,” he says.  “When are you not working?”

“Umm, this is sort of a wacky week," I share.  "I think I am around on Tuesday night.  Do you want to get my number so we can coordinate?” 

“Nope,” he replies.  

“Tuesday night at 10pm at George and Martha’s work for you? I’ve never been there before,” he shares, “and I’d like to take you out there if that works for you.”

“Um, sure. That sounds awesome,”  I  reply.

I love that he is assertive. I love that he made the plans. I think he’s super cute. 

I’m beaming.

The bar picks back up again and I am back behind the bar.  Now I notice that he is watching my every move. Not in a creepy way, but in a way that says he's into me. 

I’m now excited for my Tuesday tonight.  He pays his tab and I get to see his name.  It occurred to me that I was so excited to be asked out that I totally forgot to ask him his name.  Well at least now I know who the hell I am going out with.

Tuesday night rolls around. I drive myself to the bar. It's been a long time since I have been here.

As I am pulling in I notice he is walking across the lot.

Phew, here is my opportunity to suggest another place to go.

“Hey there! So you still wanna check this place out?” I shout, hoping he is not set on having drinks here.

“Yeah, I have never been here before,” he responds. 

Dang. I’m stuck.

We proceed inside.  We sit down at the bar and then chat for over two and a half hours over our cider beers.  He is pleasant and fun to talk to. The conversation ebbs and flows. There are some pregnant pauses when he talks about high school and his prom. I realize that there probably aren't a ton of years under his dating belt.  It's sweet, but he's a bit novice it would seem. 

He has a youthful charm and innocence but has nearly a Fifty Shades control on his life and destiny. 

We both love the same sports teams, are very into our fitness and local, organic food. He has a dry sense of humor, and pokes me back when I am playfully abusive.  It was a great chat. I am happy that I decided to come, even though I think he's too young.  

He then tells me he is going into the service and that he is departing in the near future. This is kind of a bummer. I appreciate his service to his country, but I don’t want to get into a relationship with someone who is going away for four to eight months. 

I am exhausted . I am just cooked from my big week and I realize it is time to go home. I think he's a lovely kid, but he’s goin away for a while. A long while. I wanna date someone who is going to be around, not away, who knows where, for who knows how long.  I kinda feel the universe giggling at me. I suggest since the bar is closing that perhaps we should pay our tabs and head out on our way. Good bartender karma, you know.

He agrees and asks me if I will go out with him again. I nod. I am not sure why. This is going nowhere.  Maybe I choose to nod in compliance because this is just easier.  When he texts or calls, I'll just say I am busy, and it will just fade away.  

I ask him if he has had a good night.

He tells me that he has had an amazing night "with a hot cougar". 

I don't even drink coffee or tea. Oh wait. . .

HUH???

I ask him, "How old do you think I am?"

"I don't know," he stammers. "28?"

I press my smile into a thin grimace. I am seething inside. I don't consider myself a cougar. I looked it up online once and the definition was "a woman 40 years of age or older who exclusively pursues very young men."

 I am not 40. And it's not like he's  young enough to be my son. 

I perceive this term "cougar" as a way for men to poke fun at those of us who are just doing what men have done for eons.  There is no negative connotation for a man who dates women significantly younger than he is, why do I get to bear this scarlet "C"?

I'm not having it.  

I don't respond.

I decide I am not going to say anything further. He doesn’t notice this. Perhaps because he is smitten with this older woman.  Perhaps he is mapping out in his head what he is going to tell his friends about going out with a cougar. Either way, this is over. 

I bid him goodnight and get in my car. 

I can't hardly wait to tell my friends this story. I can't hardly believe the exchange that has just happened. 

Kudos kid on your epic fail with your "cougar".