Posts Tagged barman
In the “city” I’m living in at the moment, there is one (1) gay bar. Just the one, and to be blunt it’s kinda shite. The drinks are expensive, the floor is sticky, it tends to have more than its fair share of creepy people; but the LGBT society go there, I go there sometimes, just because I feel more comfortable in LGBT*-friendly environments. I’m happy to sacrifice the atmosphere the swish fancy bar round the corner offers in favour of feeling safe somewhere.
In this bar there works a twink whose name is the same as mine. It’s not a very common name (I’ve only met three other people with it) and to make matters weirder, he uses the same nickname I do. I’ve spoken to him maybe once, other than to order drinks, months ago when I was blind drunk. Yesterday he popped up on Grindr to say “nice name,” and we got talking a little bit; today he asked what I was doing tonight and I didn’t have any plans at the time, so he invited me over to his for some fun. It turns out he lives in the house above the bar (handy that, very central too) which is closed today, so I went over before I met some friends for dinner in the centre.
He was a few centimetres shorter than me and slim but toned, brown hair and, the cherry on top, big brown eyes. I started out going down on him but after a few minutes he pulled me up and took me in his mouth from below, and quite well too; we rolled rolled to the other side of the bed so I was on my back and he kept going, and it was at that point I noticed the rather large mirror leaning on the wardrobe giving me an excellent view of what was going on. I’ve only seen myself having sex in the mirror once before but I do quite like it because, narcissist that I am, I like the look of my naked body.
After a bit more rolling and sucking I asked him if he had a condom; he did, he put it on and straddled him as he fucked me (the boyfriend and I have been experimenting with various positions to see which one is easiest for me to bottom from and that seems to be the one). Once he got going he came fairly quickly, and stayed inside me and kissed me as I finished myself off on his chest.
As far as sex with a random stranger goes, it was really quite good, easily 8 out of ten. I’ve sent him a follow-up message on Grindr to let him know I’d be up for doing it again or making it regular; he seemed quite reluctant about seeing me again as I was leaving though so I don’t have too high hopes, but we’ll see.
You remember Barman, right? Last night I was in that club (again) and saw him; pointed him out to some friends who knew the story and one who didn’t, who laughed and said “He’s straight. He’s seeing my friend M”. So that explains the lack of contact but God, it pissed me off. Don’t get me wrong – I don’t particularly care what the sexuality of the person giving me vodka is, and I don’t believe that gay bars should only employ gays etc. That’s a load of bullshit. What I do care about is that he didn’t just say that in the first place. “Can I have your phone number?” – “Sorry, I’m straight,” or “No, I’m not single” are both good responses. Playing the game and pretending to flirt just because I’m a customer is crap. Sonic’s flatmate suggested that maybe he didn’t want to offend; saying “no” is a lot less offensive than fake-flirting with someone and then blanking them the next day. Why oh why do people feel the need to play these stupid games?!
Anyway. I’ve been reading over your entries for the wee competition I wrote about in my previous post, and have yet to pick the winners. Some are really frank, some are funny, and they’re all very different. Because I’ve not picked yet I’m pushing the deadline to this Saturday, so if you want to enter before then send me your story to email@example.com before then. See you tomorrow for Flashback Friday!!
So the barman hasn’t texted (yet) but because this city is actually a village, I ran into him today. In my department building at Uni. What are the odds?
I don’t even know why it surprises me that shit like this happens any more to be honest.
Bruga has a friend from home visiting over the weekend and wanted to show her some of our night life in the city, so last night the three of us, along with Pan, went out dancing. It was a really fun night, though God only knows where Pan ended up. (He has a habit of vanishing in the middle of a night out, or deciding to stay when everyone else is leaving).
He and I were stood at the bar and after Pan had ordered I commented that the barman was cute. “Talk to him,” said Pan, handing me a fiver. So when said barman came back with Pan’s pint, I paid, and immediately realised that made it look as if Pan and I were a couple. Oops. There’s always a way out though, so when the barman came back with the change and handed it to me I asked his name, which he gave as M; “Hi M, I’m Dexxx, and you’ll be my barman this evening.” M blushed and we went off to dance. (Special thanks to KittyMama for the opening line).
Even though the place was busy – not packed like it is on a Wednesday – I did get served by him for the rest of the night, and barely even had to queue. Not my first drink after that encounter but the one after that, I asked “Could I have a vodka lemonade and your phone number please?” (I seem to have this idea in my head that I live in New York and people actually say this stuff to bar staff. As far as I know they really don’t but whatever, it worked) and he sort of started for a second and then went, “Not while I’m working…” and turned away to get my change, having an animated conversation with one of his colleagues at the till. Then as he gave me my change his hand lingered on mine for a second and he continued, “… but you can give me yours!”
Now, I don’t know how many of you have tried to find a pen in a night club, but for me it was certainly a first and it’s really not easy. I had a bit of an aha-moment when I realised the toilet attendants have to fill in time sheets, so I got a pen off one of the friendly ones of them I’d been talking to earlier in the evening. It always pays to be nice to almost everyone. I put my number down on the back of a receipt, making sure it was the right number this time and that my writing was actually legible and went back to the bar.
At this point Pan and I ran into a very friendly girl who was in the club for the first time, and befriended her. She offered to buy us both drinks and I said “Well I’m actually flirting with one of the bar staff…” so she just handed me a twenty and told me what to order. Once I did, and this woman (I think her name was L?) had added three shots onto the order for us, I slipped the receipt with the phone number on top of the twenty and handed both over. I thought L’s eyes were going to fall out of her head at the temerity of it but I explained the rest of the story later. Anyway, barman put our order through the till (giving us the shots for free, cheers pal) and my number in his back pocket.
Boom. That’s how it’s done.
I suppose that technically we can’t term that successful until I get a text from him, so we’ll see whether or not that happens. But the free shots and the fact that he took my number are small victories in themselves, and at any rate it’s a more successful night than Pan’s since he ended up sucking off a 39-year-old tourist in the toilets…