Wasted Words

The other night, right after a meeting, I got a bite to eat at the bar where the Boy Scout is working. I sat in the corner of the bar and on my left was Carol, a woman in her mid-60s that comes to the bar just to see my guy. She acknowledge me when I took my seat and then proceeded to turn in her chair with her back to me and, to be fair, I think she was enjoying the company of the gentleman next to her. Being an introvert, I was OK with it. Once in a while something was said and she would tilt her head my way and reply or glance but otherwise I was looking at her ponytail. The person on her left finished up and exited.

The Boy Scout came over and engage the two of us in conversation then went on his merry way. Carol now decided that she would talk to me. She turned to me and said, “You know, I told (Boy Scout) that being a bartender is the best way to meet women”.  “Oh really”, I replied. “Oh yes”, she says, “he’s good looking, articulate and the best thing in the room because he’s sober and the other men are not”. I just smiled and she went on, “He acted surprised when he came to me and confirmed that, indeed, women were passing him their information”. “Is that so”, I said. For some reason, I got the distinct feeling she disapproved of me. I didn’t feel the need to let her know I didn’t give a rats ass of whether she approved of me or that women were handing him their information.

It’s very nice to not really care if people are trying to bait, insult or make you feel small. I’m not insulted. She likes my man, she thinks he’s the cat's pajamas. Truthfully, in some ways he is and in other ways.......well, not so much. She only knows the bartender that loves literature, loves to talk and lends out books. I’ve no need to tell her the rest of the story, it belongs to us.