A couple of friends and I had taken to frequenting a bar for a short period of time. The male friend didn’t have proper identification to access a bar, so since we knew the proprietor of the establishment, it was naturally the place for us to go. All of the waitresses were cute, but Jess caught my eye above the others. It could have been her reddish brown hair, as always in a pony tail. It could have been the flirting that occurred between us that drew me to her. It could have been the tattoos on her arms that jutted out of the shortened black sleeves of her uniform or it could have been a combination of all of these, but Jess was my primary motivation for returning.
I decided that each time I went; I would do something to set myself apart from the rest of the patrons in her eyes. The first couple of times it was the flirting and it was generally sarcastic in nature, but that has the tendency to border on confusing or offensive, especially when the bar is crowded and loud. And at this point I still did not know her name nor her mine. So I formulated a plan to extract her name. One night, after she delivered the drinks to our table I put the plan into action.
“When you have a free minute I have a question for you.” I told her. With the nature of the question up to speculation, she was probably nervous, at the very least perturbed.
“Ok.” She replied. She looked left and then to her right. She stuck one index finger up and said “I’ll be right back.”
I put my hand up, palm out in a passive manner and reiterated “When you have a minute.”
I turned back to my friends and her to the tables. She walked hurriedly from point left to point right, doing her job at points in between. She went to the bar, then to the tables, and then she turned in my direction. She walked fast and replaced the last two steps of her approach with a hop. Her arms slapped her thighs simultaneously as her walk stopped, and said to me “What’s up?”
I felt like she had taken care of the work she needed to and cleared a minute in her busy, karaoke-night schedule to listen to my question.
“So, I’ve noticed that waitresses don’t wear nametags anymore, at least not the ones here.” This was my question in disguise I suppose.
“That’s because we’re not that kind of place, that ‘TGI Fridays’ kind of place. We’re trying to avoid that.”
“I see.” I nodded with understanding, and a small, seductive smile. “Well, maybe you want to tell me your name?” The question had reared its head.
“Sure… I’m Jess.” She admitted.
“I’m Joe.”
“Nice to meet you.” She added, confused, and waiting for the real question to appear.
“That’s all.” I kept a calm, casual persona.
“Oh. Okay.” She was relieved that the question was not more intense probably relieved that I didn’t ask her about her boyfriend, or ask her for her telephone number. She was content with my question. She smiled and went back to work. I turned to my friends who I had ignored during this interaction and found them both staring at me.
“That was god.” The female friend said. She was genuinely helping in my attempts to find a girl and was a little impressed, and a little jealous. But that was it for the night between Jess and I.
I returned to the establishment on another night. I was alone and on a whim. I did not know if Jess was working or not, but upon entering the bar I saw her doing her usual waitress routine. The hostess approached me and proceeded to try to seat me. I asked to be seated in a Jess’ section, and was accommodated. Our interaction that night was similar to the others; light hearted flirting and banter at the start, a drink order and a drink received. I asked Jess if I was starting to look familiar to which she affirmed. I kept to myself during the consumption of my drink and when Jess asked if I wanted another I said no. But I pleaded my case.
I complimented Jess in a few, small ways and asked if a meeting away from the bar between her and I was possible. “Maybe coffee or a drink somewhere else…” Again she paused looked around and told me she’d be right back.
Same as before, she tended her tables, got fresh drinks for people and then made time for me, this time without the hop.
“I have a boyfriend.” She said. “And I’m not just saying that, I actually do have a boyfriend.” My heart sank, but my face stayed calm. “Thank you though, if I didn’t have a boyfriend I would.” I felt this was a genuine response, no smoke.
“Ok, well, if things change, I know Gus (the proprietor) and he has my number. Feel free to give me a call.”
She smiled and nodded. “Ok.” She said. “So, no drink?”
“No. Thank you. I’m good.” A pause came between us, but it was time for me to leave. “Good bye Jess, maybe we’ll talk again.”
I never heard from Jess, and haven’t seen her around the bar, though I go less frequently now that my friend obtained proper identification. Maybe I should go talk to Gus, and discuss Jess’ whereabouts?
