A woman walks into a bar… and meets a chauvinist

Buzzing of the bar. Crowded beyond physical capacities. Louder than normal, even for a place like this.

She is looking around, but not for anything or anyone. Gliding over people’s faces. Over the furnishings of the place.

Her eyes stop, examining the reflection. Her reflection. She watches the almond-shaped brown eyes looking back attentively. Her face framed by luscious, wavy, long brown hair. The light is dancing around on her Asian cheekbones and the humid air is casually lying on her full African-American lips.

She stares into her eyes, looking for answers to unspoken questions, challenging herself to find something, yet unsure what. While surrounded with people drinking, dancing and talking, fed by alcohol and drugs. Probably. Her eyes drift to a guy in the far right corner twitching like there are electric shocks  going through his body. Definitely.

“Hey, Earth to Skyler.”

She turns her head back to her friends. “What?”

“Here take a shot. And loosen up.”

“You need to relax.”

She doesn’t understand what they are getting at. She is completely stress free. Isn’t she? She has locked work and obligations and family issues out of her mind, hasn’t she?

Among her girl friends, there was a strictly inforced law of never discussing anything too serious during nights out. There was a time and place for everything. And these aren’t the circumstances for anything but killing the brain cells with alcohol.

She sways to the beat of the song, deliberately enjoying the moment, forgetting the past, present and the future. Dancing next to each other, the women feed of one another’s energy, enjoying their moments together, having the time of their lives. Not wanting anything but the safety, comfort and fun of each other’s company.

In need of refueling her body, Skyler grabs her bag and heads for the bar.

“4 Coronas, please.”

“Sure thing.” The bartender starts getting the drinks.

From her left, she sees a figure approaching her. His cologne reaches her before he does.

“I couldn’t live with myself if I didn’t get your name. I’m Shawn.”

“Nice to meet you, Shawn. I’m Skyler.”

“Can I get you a drink?” His eyes drift over her petite, curvy body, sending shivers of discomfort through her.

“Thanks. Maybe the next one.” She would offer him a drink but his glass is full.

“So what do you do, Skyler? Are you a model? Assistant? Nurse?” He asks with his eyes full of stereotypical intrigue.

Ignoring the choice of occupations, she answers, “I’m a sport agent.”

His hand freezes before the drink arrives at its destination. “Really?” He nearly snorts. The disbelief and the mockery are evident in his voice. His eyes slowly crawl over her again. “You’re joking?”

Irked by his reaction, she takes a deep breath, urging herself to calm down. She forces a smile on her face. “No, I’m serious.”

“Wow. I didn’t know they let women do that.”

She raises her eyebrow, ready to pounce with the weight of every woman in the world on her shoulders.

“No, no, I didn’t mean it like that.” He spits out his defense. “I just… Being an agent takes a lot of negotiation skills and making important decisions. Maybe I’m wrong but women tend to be too emotional.” The bartender brings me my drinks. “Right, bro?”

“There’s not enough of alcohol in this world for you to make sense and be right. Bro.” The bartender looks at her with his bright eyes. “It’s on the house.” He turns around too quickly for me to do anything, summoned by other customers.

The guy touches her arm, gliding her fingers over her skin. “You’re not mad, baby, are you? That’s just how it works.”

She gives him the widest smile and a challenging look. “Too bad your parents knew how it works.” She doesn’t stop herself there. She can’t. “Just becuase you have a penis does not make you more qualified to do a job. And just beacuse I have a vagina does not make me too sensitive to function.”

Taking the beer, she walks away, not allowing herself to get provoked and confident she doesn’t need to prove herself to anyone.


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