Sex On The Beach, On The Floor: I Can't Hold My Alcohol, II.

     I stole a gulp of my drink and readily followed Jake to the dance floor. We claimed a spot amidst flailing arms, shifting hips and hyperactive feet.
     Dancing's always been a favorite outlet of mine. Add to that a hot man who not only wants to dance, but wants to dance with me, my level of spontaneous exhilaration shot through the roof.     
     Jake and I got lost in the music, conferring frequent playful grins. His endearing White-boy- bouncy-sway-step heightened my attraction. After about 20 minutes, Jake placed his warm hand on the small of my back. "Would you like a drink, Robyn? I'm going to grab a beer."
     "Oh, no thanks, I'll just drink the one I started." I slipped over to the table to taste more Sex On The Beach, as I watched Jake walk to the bar in his dark blue jeans that fit just right. Nice butt, I thought, taking a lengthy swig. Whoosh! Strong stuff. You better slow down, I told myself.
     We repeated the pattern of uninhibited dancing, then breaking for him to order yet another beer, while I sipped the same supply of Sex On The Beach.
       Jen found us on the dance floor just before midnight. She'd given Jake a ride, and let him know she was leaving. "Do you mind giving me a ride home?" he asked me. "Jen's going to leave."
      "Sure,that's fine." I didn't hesitate, but tried to quell my excitement. We both said "goodbye" to Jen.

      "Are you sure you don't want another drink?" he offered again. "You can get a soda. It doesn't have to be alcohol."
      "I'm good. Thanks...Hey, are you trying to get me drunk?" I teased.
      "Is that what it would take?"
      Oh God, how do I respond? I don't get drunk. Well I did once, maybe twice, but not for years or decades, so no. That's not what it would take. But if I say "no," he'll think I'm ready for a Slow Screw Against The Wall right here and now. Hmm, sounds nice. No, Robyn, no. Be the good girl your mom raised you to be...In short, I couldn't safely respond to his question, so I didn't.
      "Actually, Robyn, well" --he looked towards the entrance-- "let's go talk." With his hand on my shoulder, he pointed at the door. We walked outside, where we could better hear each other. Jake explained that he didn't want to have sex unless he knew it was right.
       Unbelievable! He's handsome and chivalrous, likes to dance, won't attack me. Then again, that's kinda a bummer.
       "You're beautiful, I'm not saying you're not the one for me. I don't know."
        I blushed. I'm sold! "Thanks," I said quietly.
        Then, we learned more about each other. I shared that I'm a social worker and writer, that I'd published a poetry book. He said he'd taken over his father's mechanic's shop two years ago when his Dad got sick. Jake had moved from the Bay Area, as had I. He was scoring big points until...

        "I've been married three times," he said, fairly nonchalantly. Jake added that he'd broken off an engagement with a would-be fourth wife.
        Crap! There's always something. But I was still highly attracted and slightly buzzing from my half-drink.
        ...to be continued.

Sex On The Beach, On The Floor: I Can't Hold My Alcohol!

 Few things are more awkward than me at a bar. But it was a colleague's birthday, and a group of friends were going, so I pushed myself there. My nerve cells bounced erratically like yo-yos on crank, as I trekked through the crowded scene of boozers, flirts, and those eying the big busty blonde camped out at a center table. She appeared to be working on beer number three.

Thankfully, a friend and I saw each other at the bar. "Oh, hi Robyn."

"Hi, Jen. Glad to see you."

"You too. What are you getting? I'm waiting for a Martini."

"Oh, um, I don't know. I want something sweet and light. Any suggestions?"

"Go for a Sex On The Beach."

"Sounds good." Really good. I felt a drop of saliva slide down my chin.

The cute bartender turned to me. "What would you like?"

"I'll take a Sex On The Beach," I told him, smiling.

As I said this, a heavy-set bald man sitting a few inches to my right, offered an affirming half-grin. I think he approved of my order. I took a few steps back, though; he was kinda creeping me out.

Our drinks came at the same time. "Don't worry, I got it, Robyn," Jen said, handing the bartender her card.

"No, I can't let you do that." I scurried through my purse and extended my arm towards her, a $5 in my fist. Take it, Jen." She refused. As I began pulling my arm back, it happened, slowly but  decisively: My lower arm brushed against my glass and Sex On The Beach took a free-fall, crashing onto the brown tiled floor with a blasting shatter that could undoubtedly be heard in Kentucky.

Before I could blink, an apron donning employee zipped rapidly from my right to my left, then my left to my right, with a big long broom. Another was at my feet wearing rubber gloves to carefully pick up any pieces she missed. Then the mopping began. Clean-up seemed prolonged for hours, with all eyes on me. Baldy pierced me with another half-grin. This time, his expression said "You klutz, you!"

I needed to do something. "Okay, people," I announced. "Now we all know that I can't hold my alcohol!" Nobody seemed to appreciate my humor, though they slowly resumed a focus on their alcohol or the big busty blonde. Thankfully.

But what do I do now? Everyone's here from the group. They all saw that. I can't just leave; I'd draw more attention to myself. I made the only choice I could: order another Sex On The Beach.

"I gave you an extra shot this time," he told me. Extra? I couldn't even handle the first one. As I brought my drink to the table, I felt relieved that the group was engaged in chatter. But I sat fuming with awkwardness and nobody to talk to. Minutes or an hour later, my eyes caught those of a handsome man on the other side of the table.

He wasted no time in deciding to approach me. "What are you drinking there?"

"It's Sex On The Beach...Gotta get it any way I can."

"It's not as good as it sounds," he joked.

"Nah, it's messy and uncomfortable, not nearly as good as it sounds," I agreed, as if speaking from experience.

We grinned at each other, and I appreciated his nice, warm smile. His perfectly chiseled facial features didn't hurt either.

"I'm Robyn," I offered my hand.

"I'm Jake. I'm a friend of Jen's. Nice to meet you."

"You too."

"Would you like to dance?"

"Sure." My night was suddenly looking up.

...to be continued.