The loud clang from the pub’s front door, opening and slamming shut, always made for a grand entrance. I walked slowly toward the bar, smiling as I could hear the staccato of my favorite high-heeled boots on the pub’s hardwood floors, made me feel like shouting, “There’s a new sheriff in town!”
Luckily, I only did this in my head.
“Hello, Celebrity,” Belfast Bartender greeted me with his thick Irish accent from behind the bar.
Belfast Bartender was my favorite bartender for a reason. First, if I sat with someone he didn’t know, he always took the time to check in with me and ask if everything is okay. That made him a gentleman in my eyes. Second, he was a great mixologist and an entertaining one at that.
It wasn’t too long ago when I was having a pint while Belfast was working and I ended up talking to a young guy who said he was in town on business. Had it not been for the beer and being bored, I wouldn’t have given this guy the time of day.
When I finished my beer and announced I was leaving, the guy I was talking to pressured me into giving him my phone number.
Too bad for him, I might have
accidentally on purpose given him the wrong number.
“Celebrity….he just didn’t seem like your type,” Belfast pointed out to me the next time I saw him.
“I know. I was clearly a little bored that night. So believe me when I say this — I’m giving you full permission to break up anything you think is out of character for me next time.”
Fast forward a few months later….
“You look great tonight, Celebrity,” Belfast Bartender said as he walked around the bar to give me a hug.
I felt great. I was happy to be out of the house and it was a perfect autumn night to slip into my favorite pair of jeans and break out my favorite Fall boots.
Plus! I had JUST washed my hair…
I ordered my beer from Belfast and stood at the end of the bar by the waitress station. To my right, half way down the bar, I couldn’t help but notice a group of people. I didn’t recognize any of them, but it was hard to see with the lights being turn down low, you know, for ambiance.
(Who wants to be in a brightly lit bar? Not me…)
“Oh, geez,” I said to the waitress. “We have a Stage 4 cling-on situation at three o’clock. Do you know who that is staring at me?”
“I’ve never seen him before. But he is definitely starting at you. Good luck with that,” she said and walked away.
The fact that I was there by myself, made me feel just a teensy-weensy bit uncomfortable. I decided to find a seat at the bar and eyed a bar stool that had just become available. Right before I pulled it out, I looked over once more to the man who was still staring at me.
“My God, baby,” I heard him say with a thick accent, “come over here.”
I played it out for a second.
You know, the who me?
Oh, you meant me?
As if I didn’t know…
With my best model walk, I moved past a few people standing at the bar and walked toward the man.
He greeted me with a huge smile and perfect teeth.
“Yes, baby…hello….where are you from? My God you are gorgeous!”
I was gorgeous?
He was gorgeous!
But it was his sexy-ass accent that totally had me captivated. And even with my 3.5” high heels on, he was still slightly taller than me.
“You are too funny,” I smiled coyly at him. “Where are you from?”
With a twinkle in his eyes his velvety voice purred, “I’m from Costa Rica, but I live in Florida now.”
We stood there smiling and admiring each other. It was one of those rare instances where you meet someone and, just like that, you click.
Call it chemistry, mutual admiration, or what have you, but it was definitely there.
“My God, baby. Are you married? Single?! Whaaaat?” he said eyeing me up and down like a flamboyant artist who just unveiled a masterpiece. “I can’t believe someone like you lives here…”
“Yes, yes, well thank you. I grew up here,” I started to explain, which probably sounded more like an apology, than a reason. “But, I actually really do love living here.”
“You don’t look like you are from here…” he questioned.
“Thank you. I used to live in New York City and Los Angeles.”
“Why would you leeeeeave, baby?”
But the real question was, what was he doing here in my small New England town?
Our admiration for each other was quickly interrupted when a short woman standing next to Mr. Costa Rica stepped in and introduced herself.
“Hello,” she said while extending her hand towards me, “I’m his realtor. He and his husband are looking to buy property here.”
And there it was….the potential fun-factor had just been dialed down to a big zero.
….or so I thought.
Having a husband and being gay apparently wasn’t going to stop Mr. Costa Rica from flirting with me. Instead, he laughed off his realtor’s comment and continued to make my night by making me feel like the most gorgeous creature on Earth.
As he continued talking, I found myself hanging on to every word he said.
“Yes, my husband is a doctor and we’re looking at investment property up here…..my God, you are gorgeous!”
Gay or not, one thing was for sure, he had an air and style that only came from living in a big city.
“Celebrity….?” I turned to look at Belfast Bartender standing behind the bar. “Would you like another beer? Everything okaaaay?”
“Everything is great,” I said, beaming back at him. “And, I’m great with the beer I have now, thank you. I don’t think I should have another one.”
I turned my attention back to Mr. Costa Rica who was still admiring me.
And then, it happened.
I felt his strong hand slip around my waist, and when nobody was looking, he stepped closer to me and looked deep into my eyes…
….then he looked down at my mouth…
….and looked back into my eyes…
….slowly, he tilted his head…
….and looked back down to my mouth….
….and just like in the movies…
….his beautiful mouth met mine…
….and it was fantastic!!!!!
In the middle of this amazing make-out session (mind you) in the middle of my brother’s bar, I heard the slam of Belfast Bartender’s hands on the counter and heard him yell, “Celebrity!”
I wasn’t the only one who heard it, because it also caused the realtor to quickly spin around. “Hey!” she yelled at us, as if trying to break up two dogs in heat.
Reluctantly, I pulled away from Mr. Costa Rica and with my head swirling with the surge of endorphins, I managed to say, “Oh my God that was fantastic.”
“But he’s gay!” the realtor shouted at me. “And he’s maaaaarried!”
I felt like a child being scolded, but I figured that as long as my brother was nowhere in sight and not working, I didn’t really care and I was in the clear!
(Look, I’m not one to makeout with a stranger in a bar–that’s definitely not my style. However, having not properly had a makeout session with a man in months….possibly years, I figured the slight embarrassment that I had just caused myself, and possibly my brother, was well worth it.)
As we stood there smiling at each other and taking in the moment we just had, I could tell the realtor was about to do damage control.
Because as fast as it started…
It was over.
Completely miffed, the realtor grabbed her client’s hand and quickly dragged him out of the bar.
I was left standing there feeling speechless…and warm all over.
Dazed, I looked over at Belfast Bartender. He stood there leaning on the bar with both hands, slowly shaking his head in disapproval, as if to say, what am I going to do with you?
“I’m sorry!” I blurted. “He just grabbed me and started making out with me. How is this my fault?!”
If Belfast Bartender knew anything about me…he knew that was code for:
Please don’t tell my brother!