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9pm  4.11.11

Scene: an underground pub, downtown Los Angeles

The day had been one full of nukes.  I had been so close to the prize but it just wasn’t going to happen that day.  Things had been heating up with the motherfucker.  I lost a contract.  So what more logical of an escape than to meet with a seemingly out of my league handsome artist gent from the interweb?

He’d popped up on my radar not too long before that. At the time, I didn’t know where things were headed with the motherfucker.  I told him what happened after I’d left work that day.  He didn’t care.

“Have fun having sex with him.” he told me.

I thought it was a trap.  It probably was.  Nonetheless I proceeded anyway.  I needed the escape after all.  I deserved it.

Didn’t I?

I arrived to a very tall well dressed extremely fashionable gent clad in a suit and spiked coiffure with an entourage of other well dressed gals and gents.  This is a very casual bar.  I began to feel a bit under dressed compared to the last time I had come here with friends.  I was out of my element.  I didn’t know anyone tonight.  Anyone but him now.

We played a few rounds of ping pong.  I got myself a beer.  I chatted a bit in casual conversation with the group.

“The bar is closing. It’s last call.”

It was unexpected and short.  I’d barely had any time with him, let alone in private.

“Did you want to go somewhere else?” he asked me.

“Sure.  Where should we go?”

“Wurstkuche. It’s not far.”

“Alright, I can drive.”  I replied.

It was at this point when we were walking around the corner to my car that I noticed the skateboard in his hand.

“You don’t drive do you?”

“No.  I work downtown and in the artist district.  It’s not hard getting around.”

I drove us to our next stop in the crawl.  This wonderful bar in the Artist District amasses a great bevvy of alcoholic bliss including my absolute favorite- Alagash White.

I looked at their list of pulls.  He knew immediately what he wanted and so did I.

“Alagash White please.”

“What is that?” he said as he ordered his PBR.

“It’s delicious.  It’s a meal compared to that.”

“Would you like a pint or a stein miss?” the bartender asked me.

I’d just lost my contract and was now at the second bar of the evening with an artist who looks wise appeared out of my league.  I didn’t have anywhere to go in the morning.  So what was there to hold me back?  The nukes of the day completely disappeared.   I was brimming over when I answered.

“I’ll take a stein please.”

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