The Muse

Another night on the town, another bar packed with strangers... Why this was my friends' idea of fun, or why they would think that I might find it enjoyable, I have no idea. Actually, that's not entirely true, my friends think that they're doing me a favor by dragging me off to some bar or club so I can hook up with some chick who won't be able to remember most of what happened anyway. It's not like I have a problem with the ladies, I'm a decent-looking guy, but I don't really see the point of having sex just to have had sex...especially not with someone who needs at least half a dozen shots of tequila to "loosen up". Besides, most of the women just wind up looking at me like I'm some brainless hunk of meat. Some of them use gender equality as an excuse, as in "Men constantly ogle at women, so why can't we do the same", whereas others just don't care or have their own little reasons for approaching me.
So, here I am...putting on a good show for da boyz. Be it in the name of solidarity, in the name of bromance, whatever...I just go through the motions. Smiling, laughing, pretending to listen to their stupid jokes and anecdotes, pretending to scan the room for a pretty face, drowning in the sea of laughter and idle conversation. "Ayo bro! Are you gonna drink that or what?! Or are you already narrowing down the list of honeys you wanna hunt down later?" "Hey...what about that one cute brunette we saw over by the dancefloor when we walked in?" "Dude no, did you see how big her entourage is? She ain't here to play. At least not with us." "Maybe if we can find a trio, Mark and I can distract two of them while you disappear with the third to a more private location." "Yeah, but let's make sure we find some quality chicks this time, okay?"
Blablablabbitybla... I like my friends...I do, but sometimes...okay, a lot of times...I just have to tune them out. For the sake of my own sanity, of course. Fine...so I'll look at the ladies present tonight...each and every one beautiful in her own right. Dolled up, wearing their prettiest clothes, some here on girls' night out, some here to unwind after a hectic work week, some just here for a bit of youthful fun, some here to hunt and play. And that's when my eyes fall on her...sitting at the bar...possibly the rarest of sights for this kind of place. All alone with only a vodka soda to keep her company, she seems to be scanning the room for something and yet nothing at the same time. Her body posture exudes an extraordinary level of cool and casualness, while giving off the vibe that she is in no mood to play games of any kind or with anyone. Some people stare, especially other women...and why not? She isn't adhering to some unwritten code, she simply doesn't fit. Like an errant puzzle piece, she is upsetting some kind of balance, breaking some imaginary law of nature, but in the most delicious way possible. How dare she not conform? How dare she not play along? She is the lonesome wolf refusing to operate according to the pack mentality. Through her mere presence she seems to be defying all of the superficiality and bullshit. She isn't here for them, she isn't here for me, she is just here.
I can't help it, I feel drawn to her. To her alabaster skin that reflects the blue and pink lights from the dancefloor. To her hair that is just the right amount of disheveled. To her lips that are just plump and pink enough. But especially to her eyes. They seem to be able to cut right through to the center of one's very being. Despite that meticulously-crafted tough and cool exterior, I can still see her pain and sadness, and I can't help but want to take her away. Away from these people, away from this bar, away from whatever might be hurting her. I wan't to be selfish and tell her about my feelings and what I see when I look at her. And so I find myself walking towards her with the greatest of ease. It's almost as if I'm not moving at all and the universe is merely shifting around me. Ignoring the ramblings of my friends, the glances from other people... As I get closer, I can see her eyes turn sideways ever so slightly. Great, she realizes that I'm approaching. Now what? Sure, I could always turn back...and look like a moron...but no, there's no turning back now. Come hell or high water, I will talk to her, I will at least try to get to know her. It's now or never, do or die, deep breaths, don't look like you're about to have a stroke, smile...but gently, you don't want her to call the cops...here goes nothing... "Hi..."