So, here I sat at a dive bar called Yt, with my friend Chad.

He was tall and broad-shouldered, a former clothing catalogue model, who I had met at life savers’ volunteering many years ago – even before he all of a sudden woke up with great hair, fashion sense, bulging shoulders, a slick, deep voice (thank the cigarette habit) and turned into a chick magnet. He was still the same guy I knew: the guy who giggled at silly memes, burst into tears at Dark Souls and almost busted his desktop pc rig by amateur soldering the circuitry.

But the reality was, one of us desperately needed to be here, and one didn’t. And there was no hiding the fact that I fit into the former category.

Being friends with someone like Chad was a dual-edged sword. On one hand, it got me some face time with attractive women; friends of Chad's. But typically there was something 'wrong' with them, pushing them out of Chad's circle of eligibility, and into mine. Because, of course, the girls wanted to go home with Chad, at first instance. Going home with me meant that they'd lost out with Chad, and by that time women couldn't hide their disappointment and it tainted their estimation of me. By the end of the night, women had forgotten me and were scheming how to make Chad change his mind about them. My dates asked me more about Chad than myself, and used me to try to get back to him.

Maybe I'd fare better here with an average looking guy. Physical attraction had relativity, and where women are forced to make a choice, surely you wanted to be the hottest in a group of uglies, rather than the ugliest in a group of hotties. But none of the ugly ducklings I knew had any game. So I kept coming back with him, for better or worse.

“You need to be more into a group scene,” Chad was telling me over beers. “You come across like some kind of lone night wanderer. And that’s a problem.”

We sat in an exposed area close by the bar (Chad refused to hide in the corners). The music pumped overhead. I could hear the sharp ‘thwack’ of pool balls behind me.

“What? I’m a night owl,” I corrected him. “I get my best work done late. What’s wrong with that?”

“Nothing wrong. Just creepy.”

“How am I creepy?”

“I don’t mean in a bad way. I just mean to people who don’t know you, you seem like the type of guy who hides knives in his clothing.”

“I have no idea what you’re talking about. Anyway, I thought girls went for the bad boys, the lone wolves, the guy who goes against the established order.”

“Where are you getting your information? TV soaps? Trust me, you want quality over quantity. You don’t want just a bit of skirt. You want real stability. So you need to look like a loyal, faithful, devoted men. Cast-iron marriage material.”

“I don’t believe that,” I said, shaking my head. “I don’t even think you believe that. It’s naïve. What do those guys get for their trouble? Those guys get shafted eventually for the bad boy.” 

“Brian, even if you were right, you’re not a ‘bad boy,’ – who even uses that term anymore?” He eyed me seriously. “When was the last time you got in a fight?”

“Last week,” I jumped in proudly.

“When was the last time you got in a fight and won?”

I went silent.

“You’re too fixated on being Alpha,” he said sagely. “It’s got to come from inside, you can’t push it. Only a Beta worries about being Alpha. Real Alphas just are.”

I stopped. Something was wrong. Then –

The music went quiet. People were blurry and moving slowly. Everything was filtered out.

A woman had locked eyes on me. I looked at her.

Dang.

Like, dang.

She was stunning. Her skin was uniformly and naturally tanned, and her long, swept back hair was the same colour as her skin, that almost-but-not-quite-blonde milky coffee colour. She had bright, perceptive eyes half hidden under sculpted eyebrows and long lashes. Eyes capable of throwing you a direct, meaningful, inquisitive stare that hit you like a punch and drowned out everyone else in the room. In fact, they just had. My stomach was actually winded for a moment.

I felt like that cliche whistling wolf in the cartoon.

A moment later she smiled coyly and looked away, as if embarrassed she’d been caught staring. But pleased. I continued to look for a moment, hoping she might glance back, but she didn’t. I wrenched my eyes away like I was pulling my leg out of hardened concrete.

I had to get closer, but how? First, I wanted to figure out if she was here with anyone. The assumption was, if her eyes were wandering to sample the goods, she was probably single. But I wanted to be sure. In the back of my mind, I knew an ‘Alpha’ wouldn’t wait, but screw Chad and his advice.

The woman was now was talking to a male, but it was difficult to tell if it was a friend or a stranger.

A girl slid into the seat beside me, blocking the view of my seductanatrix.

“Hi!” she said, pumping my hand up and down eagerly.

“I’m Becky!”

She had nuclear green hair, red fishnets, a man’s tie and jackboots and a Michael Jackson glove. She looked like one of Lily’s friends (my ex girlfriend, who was crazy). That sent a shiver up my spine. To be fair to her, under all the garb she wasn’t unattractive. She just had tragically unfortunate timing.

“Uh…” I droned, “hi.” My eyes slid off her and over to Chad as if for help.

“I’ll grab a drink and let you two get friendly,” he winked at me. He stood and ambled off towards the bar.

My eyes glazed. My chest felt like a wrecking ball had smashed into it. In my mind’s eye I saw him wander past mystery woman, get her attention, and go home and have hot, mad, animal sex. All while I was here fighting off an estimate of the probability that the cast of Friends would ever do a reunion show, come up with a name for her goldfish, and then help Becky work deep into the specifics of what, how and why things so wrong with her previous man.

Actually, that’s not what happened. Instead, she wanted my help in coming up with twelve names for a litter of kittens. This discussion was also peppered with solicitations to sell me the kittens. After being asked ‘Do you want a little pussy?’ for the fourth time with absolutely no irony, I was seriously convinced Chad had pranked me. He had tossed this girl at me like smoke while he zipped away with mystery woman. Maybe they hadn’t even gone very far. Maybe just outside, at the back of the club. It hurt to wonder.

And she had actually looked at me. Held her gaze a moment after I looked back. The corner of her mouth had quirked in a suppressed smile. I hadn’t imagined it.

If Chad got to her first, it was all over.

“Hey!” Becky’s voice rang over the music. She tapped my shoulder, hard, with the flat of her palm. I looked back to her and swallowed.

“What do you think of Chairman Meow?!” she said, beaming proudly (everything she said sounded like it ended in an exclamation mark).

“Butch Catsidy!” she said after my hesitation.

“Oookay…Cindy Clawford!”

She had the names written down on a napkin and was crossing them off.

“Um…what do you say we talk about…” I stammered.

“OH! –” she said, making me flinch, “I’ve been thinking of incorporating an eye patch into my clothing ensemble! What do you think? – mysterious, right?!”

“The only thing mysterious about it is why you think that’d be a good idea outside of a costume party.”

“What about suspenders?!”

“What do you need suspenders for? You’re wearing a skirt.”

“A clit piercing!”

I gaped. 

“Why would you even ask my – ?”

She looked away. She was scribbling madly on the napkin again.

This conversation was getting too heavy and off the rails for one man to field alone. Where the hell was Chad?

Oh, that’s right…

I picked up my beer and gulped liberally, waiting to get drunk enough for my eyesight and memory to die. Within two seconds the glass was empty. Now, I schemed how to extricate myself from being guided through a napkin diagram of what looked like different kinds of torturous-looking sex toys.

My eyes drifted up over Becky’s head. The light dimmed. The music went quiet, until there was just a deep throbbing bass beat.

She was moving over the floor and stopped at the bar. She leaned over the counter and the yellow light illuminating from the liquor shelf spilled across her figure warmly, showing her off. Her butt was pushing out slightly in my direction. I was already stuck on her just seeing her face, but now, in case that wasn’t compelling enough, she also had a damn fine body: tall, slim, but not bony; meaty in all the right places. A round, almost strikingly indecent, bottom, connected to a killer pair of thighs balancing on black slingback stilettos. And a great pair of Tommyknockers. A stylish gash down the side of her flamingo-red ‘fuck me’ dress, down from the armpits, even teased some black side-bra at just the right angle. My mouth had gone dry.

Chad hadn’t gotten to her.

Before I knew it she had turned her head, while the rest of her body still leaning over the counter, and caught my eye again, with certainty, like she had known exactly where I was. With increased confidence this time, she gave me a coquettish grin that said, ‘Hello again.’ I even thought she shifted her butt just subtly, either to draw my attention (as if I hadn’t already seen it) or to bring it more into the light. Surely it was just my imagination that she was isolating me. Was this getting eerie, or what? There was something deliberate and calculated about it.

Had Chad set her up? Maybe Becky wasn’t the prank. Maybe this woman was. But I didn’t really want to believe that. So I didn’t.

The bartender spoke to the woman and she turned back around and straightened up, as if she had really just been posing for me. Now there was no doubt left in my mind that she was flashing all the signals that she was available. I just had to make my move.

Chad returned with the drinks. I only took a measured taste of mine. I wanted to keep my head clear, now. I was floating in a ‘sweet zone’ of inebriation; the confidence without the clumsiness.

“How are you guys getting on?” said Chad, taking his seat across from us.

“Oh, no sparks from me,” Becky shrugged with cheerful nonchalance, “but I’m like, yeah, I don’t like him but I could do worse. So, it’s like, do I hedge or what – hey,” she said suddenly, to Chad, and leaning forward, “—are you available?”

“The answer is no and no,” he said.

“I only asked you one question,” she said, pouting and crossing her arms.

“You were about to ask a second one.” He then looked at me.

“What are you thinking, Brian? The night’s still young. You staying put?”

I bit my lip. I would have taken my cue and left now, except for the mystery woman. Didn’t want to stay….didn’t want to go – what to do?

That decision was made for me when Becky jumped up to use the restroom. Possibly even to throw up. She’d gotten more excited over the drinks than I had. It seemed like she was downing them as a coping mechanism from her shattered previous relationship. A bad sign; even if I had liked her.

“So what’s your thoughts,” Chad, looking at me levelly. “Really, I mean.”

I studied my hands for a second, vaguely wishing they weren’t so small and feminine and had more hair on the back of them, like Chad had.

“Not feeling it with Becky,” I said, and then leaned forward and smiled. “But I’ve got a really good feeling tonight,” I said. “I’ve been getting some good signals from this one girl.”

“Sweet, point her out for me.”

I indicated her, still at the counter, her back turned to us. Now she was talking to someone – a woman, thankfully.

Chad let out a long exhalation.

“Oh…” he said, finally. “So much eye candy there you’d think it was an Optometrist’s Halloween.”

“That doesn’t even make sense,” I said.

He ignored me. Then he burst into laughter. My spirits sank.

“So, the thing is, dude,” he went on, “You’re aiming for the stars with a slingshot on that one.”

“What?” I said, a little quickly. “You think I’m below that?”

“Oh, no, no, no, you’re not below,” Chad emphasized. “She’s above. Way above. There’s a difference.”

I tried to ignore him. Still, I couldn’t help but feel a little deflated. If Chad – former male model, Chad – thought she was unobtainable, then what chance did I have?

“You know who she is?” I asked, wondering if he might have some inside intel before I made my move cold.

He looked back her and raised his eyebrows. “She doesn’t even look like she’s supposed to be here. Like, she’s on her way to a better joint and got lost. Don’t you reckon she’s probably been hit on by a thousand guys already?” he looked back to me. “You sure there isn’t another girl in here? Give yourself a tiny chance, man, come on. Don’t shatter all your hopes on the first girl.”

“Hey, don’t tell me to duck out now,” I grunted. The truth was, I knew I was overreaching, but now I’d seen her, I couldn’t leave the place without giving her a shot. Otherwise, I was always going to wonder what might have been…

He must have read the determination in my face.

“What the hell,” he shrugged. “Go for it. Maybe you’re delusional. Maybe not. They say: if you think she wants you to ask her out, she would have said yes ten minutes ago.”

I got up and began weaving through the crowd, making my way over to the bar. There was only one problem: by the time I got there, she had vanished. I turned, scanning the place. People shuffled around in the shadowy lighting, milling and talking. She could be anywhere. Maybe even out of the joint. I felt my brow prickling with perspiration. I’d spent too long on Becky. I’d lost my chance. She was gone. It was over. These thoughts jumped around inside my brain like a cloud of insects. There were other thoughts, too, more basic ones; I was itchy behind my ears, my mouth was dry from the beer and I needed water, it was too loud and busy all of a sudden, I needed to get out and go for a walk…

That last one seemed like a good idea. Weaving between people, I began making my way towards an exit.

“Hey,” a guy waved me to stop, “you got a lighter?”

I turned back and came face to face with the mystery woman. Her eyes peered into my face warmly.

“Hi!” I yipped in surprise.

She smiled.

“I thought you’d left,” she said. “I was looking for you.”

Say what?

I let that go unremarked – surely I had misheard her in the din of the chatter. But my heart was already leaping; was this it? Was this really going to happen? Had my instincts actually been right about this girl? Holy shit.

She faltered for a millisecond.

“You’re Brian Stevens…right?” she said, slowly enough to leave it open for me to correct her.

My mouth went askew. I stared. What was wrong with my hearing tonight? Was I going deaf? This was just spooky now.

I still hadn’t said anything. She bit her lip, still sort of smiling. She looked so hot I could die.

“Yeah!” I said.

“It’s good to see you again,” she said, relieved, and went to shake my hand.

Never shake the hand of a woman you want to fuck, Chad had once said.

The thought came out of nowhere, throwing me off balance and I and accidentally put my hand straight down into her palm.

“My bad,” I said, quickly flipping my hand around to try again, but this time we got the other way around – her hand in my palm. Now both chuckling awkwardly we got the right position the third try. She had a surprisingly firm shake, I noticed, very dominant, and she kept her keen gaze on me the whole time. Total Alpha woman. It was almost intimidating. Now the pressure was on. If I didn’t match up, I was going to crash and burn, and fall under her feet in a crumpled pile.

I tried to fake some nonchalance.

“Have we met?” I said.

“You don’t recognize me…?” she said, biting her lip again, but this time her smile was fading.

Oh shit. Was I supposed to? Surprise pop quiz – and I hadn’t studied. This was not going how I imagined. But I couldn’t yet tell if it was a bad or a good thing in the making. The absurdity of the question struck me; I must have been smacked in the head with a 2x4 to have forgotten a woman this hot.

“Uh…I know it’ll come to me…Just wait a second…”

“It’s okay,” she smiled diplomatically. “It took me a second to realize who you were, too. Not fair of me to spring myself on you like this.”

Not fair on so many levels, I thought – struck by how purely gorgeous she was.

“Care to give me a hint?” I said.

“How about the name Stacy Shepherd. Does that ring a bell?”

“Stacy,” I repeated like I’d been slapped.

It rang a bell like Quasimodo scaling the Notre-Dame and blasting the great bourdon with his bare fists. Stacy was a girl I used to know at school, seemed like ages ago now. Had some classes together but never knew her well, different circles of association. I was starting to see the resemblance now. Only, the drop-dead knockout standing before was sure no school girl anymore.

“You –” I stuttered, “—wow! – you look very different!”

“Yes,” she gave a small smile, “a little effort goes a long way, I guess.”

But it went way beyond ‘a little effort’ – I was barely noticing the outfit, and I was fairly blind about telling whether women were wearing cosmetics or not. Stacy was the full package, up and down. But I just nodded.

“What are you doing here?” I said.

“Guess I’m wondering the same about you,” she said. “But you asked first. Recent breakup. So I’m just here to have some fun being single again. Now your reason.”

“I…” I hesitated. Pussy fishing? “Do I need a reason?” I said finally. “Long day. Just wanting to hang out. Have a drink.”

“That’s fair,” she nodded. “Not so different from me, then.”

What a load of demure crap, I thought. She was making eyes at me earlier – I was certain of it. But we were both guilty of lying. I needed to man up and just ask. I needed to be Chad for once.

“So…so back on the market, huh?”

“No,” she said slowly. “Not tonight.”

“Oh, I just thought – ”

“Yeah…I’ve had some pretty hairy dates the last few weeks,” she said, giving me a hesitant, even apologetic look. “I think I just want to step back for a little while, reevaluate my priorities. Work on some personal projects. It’s a busy time.”

“Right.”

“Yeah, I mean,” she went on, “Christmastime’s hard. There’s a lot of pressure to spend this time of year with someone, and I don’t want to fall for it. What’s so bad about saving some time for yourself?”

“Kind of lonely, though, right?”

“It’s not lonely,” she sighed. “I would rather be alone than with the wrong person.”

“I’m the wrong person,” I repeated before I could help it. I could feel my chance with her dwindling like sand out of an hourglass.

“I didn’t mean it like that,” she said, and then relented, “you’re the wrong person now. But you might be the right person in maybe a couple of years’ time.”

“You wish it was someone else standing here,” I said gently.

“No,” she said. “Don’t take it the wrong way. You’re actually very handsome, all grown-up.” A blush was creeping into her cheeks, I noticed – it had to be just the make-up, I decided. The lighting was weird and artificial in here.

“You look very different,” she went on. “But not different enough. I wish I didn’t know you – in a nice way,” she said. “I know you can’t just wave a magic wand and turn into someone else. But I’m a little shocked it’s you. I don’t know how to feel.”

“It really bothers you? I don’t understand.”

“Back at school,” she went on solemnly, “you were friends with this guy who made fun of me, because I’m allergic to dogs, and, to be totally honest, he was an absolute jerk to me…”

“I think I know who you’re talking about,” I chimed in. “Yeah, he made fun of everyone. He made fun of me, too. Haven’t seen him in years, though. But I never made fun of you. And it was a long time ago.”

“I know, I only just remembered now. It’s the association. And maybe it was a long time ago, for him, but I’m still allergic, and it upset me a lot because I couldn't have a dog, let alone getting made fun of for it as well.”

“How about if we pretend we just met,” I shrugged. “We can pretend that stuff never happened.”

“I can’t do that, Brian.” She sounded genuinely sorry.

“Well,” I said with a big sigh, “we were just kids." I gestured vaguely with my hand. "If I could go back in time...”

“Forget it. Pretend I didn't say anything,” she brushed some hair out of her face. Her hair was long and wild and luscious and I longed to groom my fingers through iit. “Look," she carried on slowly, "I’d still really like to catch up with you sometime, just to talk. Perhaps we could be friends – ”

Somewhere in the back of my mind, there was a tiny, emasculated scream of horror. I could practically imagine Chad’s face: Dude, friendzone alert. Get her number or shut it down! Now!

“I’m sorry, I have to…uh…” my eyes darted around, “…go see a man about a dog.”

“Okay,” she said, her eyes dropping to her hands, which were wringing in discomfort. She didn’t buy it. I might have well have held up a sign that said ‘I only want your body.’

“Well, I won’t keep you, then.”

“Sorry, excuse me – ” I moved off awkwardly, losing Stacy in the crowd again.