I was early for dinner with Hank by about a good 40 minutes as my errands had taken far less time than I had expected. This being the case I decided to grab a quick drink at the gay bar across the street because with no kindle at hand and nothing else to do grabbing a drink served by hirsute and chapped bartender while I watch 80's music videos seemed like a smashing idea.
"Excuse me?" asked a voice behind me. I turned and was a bit taken off guard by my questioner. He was blonde and had blue eyes that spoke of something rather lurky. It wasn't his eyes that took me off guard though but the wheel chair and the very obvious case of palsy in his left arm, legs, and neck.
"Uh, hi. What's up?" I asked. To be honest, I wasn't in the mood to be hit on by him or anyone else, but my ego craved attention so I continued the conversation.
"So," he said as his smile began to swagger, "nice shoes. Wanna fuck?"
Okay, so a few things. One: I was not wearing nice shoes. Just an old pair of suede Pumas that I adore. They might be kindly considered vintage as they're that old, but they wouldn't be called nice.
Two: What the hell kind of pick up line is that? Honestly.
"Yeah, not the best way to introduce yourself. Get bent," I shot at him my most indifferent stare.
"Too late. My arm and neck already are," he said with so much swagger it could have had a theme song.
I paused and smiled. "Well played, sir. Bravo. That was... well, that was awesome." I raised my drink in props to his wit. "But still no. I'm engaged and not interested."
Had I been single I still would have said no. I don't respond well to the cocky asshole approach. I would like to think that had I been single I wouldn't have said no because of his case of palsy. Maybe. To be frank, I'm simply not sure and that makes me wonder.
I went to the restaurant across the street and ordered another drink and called Hank to check where he was before texting Fiance' and telling him of my rather quirky and offensive encounter. I chugged my drink to cope with my possible case of copulating ableism and my being horribly objectified. Best not to dwell on either right before a meal with a friend, I figured.
Blood Orange Amaretto Spritzer
Vanilla Simple Syrup
1 cup water
1 cup sugar
1/2 vanilla bean, seeded
1 ounce vodka
1 1/2 ounce amaretto
1 ounce vanilla simple syrup
juice of 1 blood orange
dash of Peychaud's bitters
1. To make the simple syrup place the water, sugar, vanilla bean pod and seeds into a saucepan and place over high heat. Stir until dissolved and discard the vanilla bean (or wash it off, dry it, and save it for another use).
2. Place vodka, amaretto, 1 ounce of the simple syrup, blood orange juice, and bitters in a shaker with ice. Shake vigorously and strain into a champagne glass. Top with tonic water.