Ah, bartenders.
Last night I wandered down to the bar in the hotel where I am staying until the flight home on Friday morning. It has a good happy hour but by 6:30 or so the place is empty, so it was me and the bartender.
A big, friendly, chatty guy.
"So", he asks, "Moving away?"
"Yes, back to Seattle."
"What does your husband think?"
Subtle.
"I'm not married."
"Oh. Ever have been?"
"No."
"Boyfriend?"
"Nope."
"Oh. Well any ex-boyfriends?"
Again, subtle.
"Sure. Countless."
"What?", he asked, surprised. "What do you mean?"
"As in, I've never counted. They were people and lovers, not trophies."
He backs up a bit. "Oh, I guess you really get around."
"Well, I haven't been a child in a while. I'm 46 years old."
"What?"
"I'm 46."
"I don't believe you."
"Who lies about being 46?"
"But you don't look a day over 30, 32 at the most!"
Yeah Right. Nice try!
Gotta love bartenders.
No comments:
Post a Comment