The Saturday of this story began with a look. Really, a double take. In the bathroom at Rehab. This bar is known for its many drag events, particularly the Saturday night drag show. The show is held on the patio. In recent years the staff devised a tent to cover the patio, allowing for winter performances. Rehab serves primarily vodka drinks. If only clear liquor equated to clear thinking.

The bathroom at Rehab has screens directly above the urinals, I suppose to distract people from their own and others’ genitals. I happened to be using one of them when someone walked past as if leaving. But then a second later their head peeked back out from behind the corner. It was a blink and you miss it moment. But I hadn’t blinked and I was the only one at the urinals.

I was shocked. Was I getting cruised? Was this how guys flirted at bars? I hadn’t experienced attention in this manner. I awkwardly finished and went to the sink, not sure what to do. Then I got an actual look at him. He was young, cute, with short hair and nice eyes. I decided to make a joking ice breaker of the situation and asked him, “did you like what you saw?”

“I was just taking a peek.” He said in a very meek tone, wearing a faux innocent smile. His friend ran up and introduced him to me. I’ll call him The Stylist, after his profession. I asked if they came together and they said no and clarified they were friends. They then went on their way and I wondered if it was just another one off encounter at a bar. Later, when I was about to leave for Just John, I saw The Stylist at the bar with a group. I paused. It was a “choose your own adventure” moment. I could: 1. Leave straight out of the bar and accept the encounter as a fluke. Or 2. Put myself out there and invite him to join me.

Mustering all available courage, I walked up to him and told him, as casually as I could, that I was heading over to Just John and he was welcome to join me if he wanted. He said him and friends were closing out and would be going there as well, and he would see me there. I left the bar smiling and buoyed with new confidence from putting myself out there and taking a chance.

Once at Just John I ordered a Kentucky Mule and waited at the bar, watching the room, posing casually, even though I felt electrified by nerves and hope. About five minutes later, Stylist entered, spotted me, and approached. He asked, “What are you drinking? Moscow Mule?” I said, “Kentucky.” He then exclaimed, “Ooh, you’re a whiskey girl!”

From there, we discussed typical introductory topics: Work, how often we go to bars. The innocent, flirty look returned to his face, and he said, “I would like to get your number.” I wanted to play hard to get, so I asked, “If you had it, what would you do with it?” He answered, “text you, of course.” I didn’t want to seem withholding, but I’ve had countless cases of exchanging numbers and nothing happening afterwards. Simply asking for a number doesn’t hold the charm it once did.

However, given that I had made it this far and I was the one being pursued, which is rarely the case, I decided to give him a chance. We exchanged numbers. Then, I decided to make the next move. Drunk on the chase, and the whiskey, I stepped closer and kissed him. He made no movement; it was like kissing a statue. I immediately pulled back and apologized, I had read the situation wrong. Thankfully, he was calm and understanding. He told me, “Nothing is going to happen tonight. Maybe another time. But I am going to work the room. I suggest you do the same.” With that, he left for another room in the bar.

I stood there, watching him go, embarrassed and confused. How did it start so promisingly, only to end up with me alone at the bar? If he had no intention of moving forward, why even ask for my number? What was the point of it all? So, I decided not to let the night be ruined and scope out the bar for other prospects. The Stylist was right, if he was working the room, I should as well.

While that was the first kiss of the night, it was not the last.

Photo courtesy of Just John