"I think being a woman is like being Irish." — Iris Murdoch

I could have cooked something, or microwaved something, but for my last night as a bachelorette, I went back to that bar and found -- as I hoped -- the blond bartender I mentioned before.  He called me "hon," but a little more tentatively... I think he knew he made an impression, and didn't want to lead me on.

Anyway, one of his female co-workers finished work and sat at the bar for a bit.  She was a good listener.  She was so good I couldn't tell whether she was trying to hook him or just friendly.  So he started talking, really talking, which is something I haven't heard before.  As he did, I realized, OMG, he sounds so much like Nelson!  Not the voice, not at all, but the attitudes.  So practical, so down-to-earth, so balanced.  I was just wowed.  I wanted to tell him, "You remind me of my husband... when he was your age."  But there was no way I could say it without sounding like some desperate old lady, so I let it go.

THEN, he turned and tried to remember what he was supposed to be doing, and he made this face just like my father used to make.  And I said to myself, oh crap!  This guy is a mix of Nelson and my dad, except he's about half my age.

And then, adding injury to insult, it made me realize that Nelson is like my Dad.  A little.  But new and improved.  Ugh!

Now I want to throw up or forget.  I'm not going back to that bar for a long while.

Seriously though, it's not so bad.  He's still hot.  And unattainable.  He was pining for this girl who is far away...

I took off from work tomorrow.  Tonight I can dream.  Can't I?