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You get to the bar. You’re wearing sweatpants, t-shirt, and a snapback still sweaty from working out. Sweaty clothes are definitely a downside of going out after hitting the gym. The upsides of going out after hitting the gym are looking real swole, exuding testosterone induced confidence, and making everyone else in the establishment acutely aware of your superior fitness. You rarely go out during the week, so you want to be on your A-Game, which in your case is wearing sweatpants and a snapback.
You see your friends. It looks like they’re about to do shots. Don’t walk up and say hi yet, you don’t want to do shots. You wait. Finally, one of the girls gets back from the bathroom. They all do shots. You walk up, “Oh, man, I just missed shots, bummer!” You order a Bud Light.
Fast forward about a minute. The girl from work who you’ve been flirting with for weeks is standing next to you. She’s relatively drunk. You know she has a boyfriend, but just because she’s on a diet doesn’t mean she can’t look at your menu. The two of you immediately start flirting and ignoring the rest of your friends. Eye contact. Thigh contact. She touches your arm. More eye contact. Smiles. Laughter. You’re surprised, you thought she was all about her boyfriend. But also not surprised, you’ve been crushing the conversation all night. You’re irresistible. So is she. Things are heating up and intentions are becoming less subtle.
“Hey I don’t feel so good,” she says. You respond, “Let’s go for a walk and get some fresh air.”
As soon as you’re outside the bar, you start walking and she puts her arm around yours. She’s stumbling a bit. You make sure to walk between her and the street. She’s drunker than you are. You only had two beers but still feel a buzz because you hardly drink anymore. You walk a few blocks and find a bench in a little park. She’s cold. You put your arm around her. Stars overhead, moonlight illuminates the sky, as do the street lights.
You continue to flirt, more blatantly than before. She looks up at you. You look into her tantalizing blue green eyes for what could have been an hour, or a second, you’re unsure. Time is hardly your concern. The look she gives you, you’ve seen it before. She’s drawing you closer. Inviting you to make your move. You gently brush her hair away from her face, and leave your hand on the side of her head. Classic move. You pull her closer and lean in, noses touch, eyes close, lips mere moments away from lusts embrace. You feel her breath and yours colliding in the microcosm of space between you. All your texting, messaging, and playful banter has brought you two to this moment.
But for some reason, you can’t do it.
You think of her boyfriend. You think of your ex girlfriend. You realize you have not kissed anyone since. You need this, why aren’t you kissing her? You think both of times that you have cheated, and been cheated on. You think of how drunk she is. You think again how badly you wish to kiss her. You think again of her boyfriend. You start to pull back. She looks at you, surprised.
Upset at you for denying her advance, you both walk back to the bar. She stops you a few times, to hug you, look at you. Last minute attempts to lure the two of you back to the moment where anything was still possible. With unyielding resolve you walk her back to the bar and reunite her with her friends. They say they will take an Uber home.
You walk to your car several blocks away. She texts you saying she wished you kissed her. Part of you wishes you kissed her too. A former you would have. A former you would have been drunker. A former you would wake up the next morning in her hotel room.
You get to your car, with windows down and music loud you drive peacefully home on an open highway. Once home, you reflect on the night, and convince yourself you did the right thing. The decent thing. You decide to quickly type up a short story of what just happened so that you may share with your friends. You wonder how many likes it will get on Facebook as you drift to sleep. .
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