Saturday, October 06, 2007

The truth about Me

I am not an attractive person.

I’ll be the first one to tell you. I’m not beautiful. I’m not a traffic stopper. I’m just who I am. I’m Sara. I’m alright for a Sara. I do okay. I like who I am, and I know who I am. And it’s okay.

It Saturday night in the ‘Gu and I want to go for a drink. I go out alone. I always go out alone. And I always go home alone. It’s the two things you can count on with Sara. She is a bit of a loner. It’s who I am.

I got to Crewbar, which is different form the Lonely Hearts Club in that it has a pool table. The bar is half dead and quiet. Me and ten other people. I’m happy. I’m blissful even. I play pool and I manage to only barely get my ass kicked but pool out the game in the end. A few brilliant shots in side pockets and I’m on the table for two more rounds. I hold up well against the competition. I drink my drinks. I’m alright.

My friend Monolycus, the lone wolf, is in the bar. He swills his beer with blond haired confidence and we talk about life the universe and everything. We try to figure out why the bar is so quiet and it finally dawns on us that the rest of the world is off watching the rugby world cup down at the Lonely Hearts Club. Crewbar is a good place to be. No one wants to deal with the Lonely Hearts Club when it is packed out and not lonely.

I chill and drink and play pool.

It was palpable when the game was over. The bar is suddenly full of people. People I don’t know, and don’t care about. People who will only be out for this night and who I will never see again. I play pool and drink another drink and talk. Drunkman sits across from me and starts to touch my arm. I pull away every time he touches me, watching the lit cigerattee dangle in his arm and wondering when he’s going to light me on fire.

“I’m not bothering you am I?” he asks me.

“Not yet.”

“Don’t want to be a bother.”

I ignore him. I’m not out for a fight. But he perisits. When his cigarette is finished he proceeds to full on attempted groping so I shout across the bar for Monolycus. Mono strolls over huff and gruff which is what I wanted. He asks me what and I whisper in his ear that I’m with him. We make a show of it. I want to end this all peacefully. I don’t want a bar fight. I figure this will avoid it.

Drunkman walks out and away and I figure it’s all over and all well. All good. I drink, I talk, I drink. We have a good time.

The bar is a crazy heady mix of people from a thousand different countries. Accents fly everywhere. The game between Australia and England was heated and Australia’s two point loss is a big deal. There is an undercurrent in the air that is palpable. The clock rings 3 am.

Drunkman suddenly wings back round behind the bar and straight into me, pushing Mono out of the way.

“We’re together:” Mono strains between clenched teeth.

“The fuck you are. You’re married. She’s not your wife. She’s by herself. I’m taking her home. She needs a good fuck.”

“We’re together.” Mono says again, this time between clenched teeth. I hold his arm. I don’t want a fight. A stupid fight. Who would fight over me, that fat girl at the end of the night? Who fights over that.

“Fuck you,” says Drunkman, “You’re a worm, like you mother.”

Mono’s intake of breath is all I need, but suddenly the clasp that holds back the long blond hair is pulled free and he removes his glasses and places them on the bar. Mono is ready to fight. He’ll fight over the insult. And he will fight because he is my friend. Many a person has wondered why I am friends with Mono. I will admit that on his bad days Mono will drive you out of your skull. But if he is your friend, well then, he’ll kill for you without you asking twice. He’s just that kind of guy. And Drunkman had insulted his mother so I was superfluous at this point. That was when the Aussie body builder and the American Biker noticed.

Mono takes off his glasses, everyone turns around.

I don’t want a fight. Why are we fighting over me. I’m going home by myself. So what the fuck is going on. What the hell. My brain screams.

Between the Aussie, the Biker and Mono it is resolved that Drunkman shall leave after apologizing to Mono for the mother slur, and so it happens.

I am left with the Biker. He looks at me.

“What’s so bad about being hit on by some guy? Was it really that bad?”

I walk out and go home alone.

I always go home alone.

1 comment:

kodeureum said...

It sounds like you've had a rough week. Sorry I didn't chat more on Tuesday but with my bad ear it's hard to hear anything when the bar gets that noisy. I found out that the Australian yoga teacher I had just gotten to know did a runner and won't be back, which was kind of a downer. I liked her as a friend and someone closer to my age that I could realtae to, and I was really getting into yoga in 40 degree heat there for a few weeks. Her two co-workers were at Commune and I stuck around to hear Adam sing his set. Two girls that work the counter at the health club were sitting with us and I had to intervene when Drunkguy insisted he was going to pick up one of them because she was "cute". He said he had met her earlier and when I asked what her name was he didn't know. Where these idiots come from is beyond me and what they're doing in Korea is anyone's guess.

Asise from all that, I was at Sugar Joe's at Kyungdae North Gate on Saturday and enjoyed a set of songs by Zen Taffy. The bassist works the bar at Commune. Another friend of mine played a set of mostly Beatles covers, and there was an open jam that lasted until almost 4:00 am. You should check it out, maybe on a Thursday open mic night.

Thanks for posting the pic, by the way. It was fun to see. :-)