Tending to the Bartender

Once upon a time, in a bar far, far away, there worked a dashing bartender named Roger. I first encountered Roger in March 2009 and was immediately struck by his charm and flirtations. Enchanted though I was, I did not allow myself to be swept away by his dreamy demeanor; it is a bartender's job, after all, to be alluring and charismatic. That's how they make the dolla dolla bills, y'all. Still, when I paid my tab and noticed a night of free drinks had come my way, I was thrilled. Not only was my purse happy, but I had succeeded in scoring several rounds of drinks on the house and all I'd had to do was smile my winning smile. This was new territory to me, and I liked it.




Roger's establishment became my favorite bar, not only due to the free drinks and the hot as hell bartender who flirted with me, but also because I really enjoyed the vibe of the place and its close proximity to my apartment. I went back many times and was always greeted with a big smile and a bear hug from Roger and left with another huge bear hug from Roger after paying for far less drinks than were consumed. The hug was usually followed by a kiss on the cheek as well.



Sometimes weeks would go by between my visits and it was so nice to see Roger's face light up when I returned. It just felt good to frequent a bar where I was known and appreciated and where the service kicked ass. I stopped in for Happy Hour one night with a friend and Roger was really on fire with his flirting and making various innuendos. At one point I overheard him talking to a girl on the other side of the bar who was trying to get him to take off his clothes This was an extremely reasonable request, considering Roger is a total Adonis whose biceps are bigger than my head, yet Roger declined. The next time he sauntered over to me as I was casually playing Photo Hunt, I remarked that I had overheard the girl telling Roger to take off his clothes. Roger snickered and said, "Yeah right, like I would take my clothes off for her? I'm tired of obnoxious drunk girls. But you... I would get naked for you."



Whereas I generally responded to Roger's lines with a blush and a giggle, this time I decided to challenge him. "Oh, you would not."



"I totally would! I would get naked for you. Because you're different; you're not like those girls. Follow me."



And with that, Roger stepped out from behind the bar (leaving it completely unattended) and walked toward a door in the back, only glancing over his shoulder to see if I had followed him once he reached the door. I don't know what I was expecting, but I was definitely curious to see what was going to happen and so, taking solace in the fact that my friend knew exactly where I was going I said, "If I'm not back in five minutes, call the police."



I followed Roger through the door into a courtyard area stacked with empty beverage crates. After he shut the door behind us, I just stood there staring at him, not really sure how the scenario was going to play out. "So, you didn't think I'd get naked for you?" he asked. "I still don't believe you," I replied. And with that, Roger took off his shirt, unzipped his fly and pulled his pants down. And his underwear, too.



Roger did not require anything from me; he apparently just wanted to stand up to my challenge. And stand up, he did. We made out for a couple minutes: he naked, me fully clothed. At one point I commented, "I bet you take all the girls back here," to which he replied, "Nope. You're actually the first." Then we went back inside and he returned to the bar as though nothing had transpired.



I'm not sure whether or not I really believe I was the only girl he had taken out back up to that point, but it didn't matter to me either way. I didn't have any romantic feelings for Roger or wish the relationship to progress past "bartender/favored patron" status. It was just nice to be desired and sure, I continued to get free drinks when I went there. Icing on the cake.



But the story is not over.



A couple months after that happened, I found myself with a boyfriend... who made me happy most of the time, but who is ever happy all of the time in a relationship? On this particular night, I was not happy. I was, in fact, very upset. And I just wanted to be with someone who made me feel sexy and wanted, so on my way home I decided to swing by Roger's bar for a little chit chatty confidence boost. I couldn't find Roger, though... in fact, no one was behind the bar at all. Highly suspicious. As I was turning around to leave, I saw Roger come in from the back door... with a girl. So I just left.



I told him months afterward that I had seen him come in with her and he just laughed and said she was a friend who was upset after a breakup and needed to talk. He assured me I was still the only girl he'd made out with in the courtyard. I assume that is probably not true, but again, it doesn't really matter. Sometimes you just need to make out with a hot bartender! ...And I did make out with Roger on one other occasion, but only those two times. It was fun, and I don't regret it, but I'm looking for more than a roll among the crates with Mr. Bartender. I still go to Roger's fine drinking establishment, however. Just last night I went to see him and had a few beers. He still gives me a round on the house.