Oh man, I’m already pretty behind on this. Which, I feel bad about, but I can’t tell if people are actually even reading this or care so… sending this apology out into the void.

Hoping to catch up by the end of this week, just in time for me to go out of town and get behind again, hah.

Anyway, here’s a short thing.


A guy and a girl in their late twenties walk up to an unmarked brick building. They show identification to a bouncer who sits on a stool by the door and they stroll inside. A clock hangs on the wall underneath a neon Corona parrot that seems to read 8 o’clock, which would make sense, because although there are patrons in the bar you get the idea that it isn’t nearly as crowded as it will be in a couple of hours. They stand off to the side of the room, scoping out the other equally out of place twenty to thirty somethings.

“So, wait. Walk me through this. What am I supposed to do?,” she says.

“It’s a mixer, but less of a networking thing and more of a dating thing. You know, like what people used to do before dating apps,” he says.

She gives him a look. “I’m aware. I don’t even use dating apps.”

“Well, I’m trying not to either so that’s why I’m here.” he responds.

“But, what do I like… say. ‘Hi, my name is Aiden. I find you remotely attractive, though to be honest I’m not really feeling it, but maybe if we talk for awhile I’ll find something about you interesting enough for me to want to get into bed with you’,” she snarks.

He sighs. “Why are you even here?”

“I don’t know, I guess I just like spending time with you,” she quips.

“Just, go up to someone and flirt with them,” he says, trying to be of help.

“I don’t flirt. I just bother people until they get sick of me and stop responding to my texts. Haven’t had much luck with it so far, but don’t knock it ‘til you try it,” she quips, punctuating her remark with a forced laugh.

“Why don’t you flirt with people? Isn’t not like you’re unattractive,” he says.

“Oh?,” she teases.

He hesitates. “...People seem to find you attractive.”


There’s a lull in the conversation and the silence is palpable as bordering conversations continue around them.

“Well, there seem to be a lot of girls here that people would find attractive. Maybe you’re in luck!,” she says, turning to leave.

“Wait, where are you going?,” he calls out to her retreating frame.

“I’m calling a car. Eating ice cream in my bed sounds much more appealing then… whatever this is,” she scoffs.

He hesitates, again. He goes to say something, but the thought never leaves his lips.

“Have fun!,” she says, looking back one more time before exiting the bar.