The Bar Maid and I

The bar maid that night became more

pleasingly attractive to me with each

beer she served. Lovely eyes, sensational

smile, picture perfect from head to toe.

As the night went on, it became clear to

see. And before closing time, I had built

up enough liquid courage to ask her out

on a date. What then? Well, we’ll just

have to wait and see, won’t we? What if

I arrived at the appointed place and time,

and it turned out to be that she was not

nearly as attractive as I in my intoxicated

state had previously perceived her to be?

Was this a classic case of (a friend once

warned) “drinking her pretty?” What then?

So, it was with that thought I decided not

to go. Then I felt guilty imagining her

standing all alone there at the appointed

place in time waiting for me to arrive.

What then? Would she be disappointed

or perhaps worse, heartbroken? Could be,

you know, that she would turn the tables

on me and be the no-show. Then, I’d be

the fool gullible enough to have believed.

What then indeed? It was then a most

sobering thought hit me—I’ll never in a

million years go to that bar again.

Chris Hanch 4-21-18