It’s one of these places that is completely unique to New York. Where, because they let you sit outside next to a stagnant canal off the Hudson and jam house music into your ears, they feel they have the right to put a Michael Jackson stamp on your wrist upon entry.
But I jest. It’s honestly a fantastic place and I have a deep fondness for the couple that run the bar, so we chose to make the trek out to Brooklyn. We grab a couple of free drinks and set up two chairs next to the dance floor. It didn’t take long for both Dawn and I to notice a disturbingly handsome bartender. Like disturbingly handsome as in…you consider it a gift to have him walk by you. Talking to him is not the goal. Sitting where he is in your sight line is the goal.
Dawn and I immediately started talking about how handsome he was. Off the cuff, I said “He is way too good looking for me.” And then I looked to Dawn for that immediate reassurance that only a true friend can offer you. “Are you fucking kidding me!” she was supposed to say. Instead she nodded and took another drink of her beer. Which forced me to press the issue.
“You think he is too good looking for me?”
“That guy is too good looking for anyone!”
Okay. I could take that. It was true. The woman that landed that guy would honestly be the woman Leonard DiCaprio just broke up with. But then Dawn pressed the issue.
“I mean Kenrdra couldn’t even land that guy. You know what, I don’t even think Leanne would be able to land that guy.”
Kendra and Leanne are two of our best friends. Obviously, now I started to get offended.
“So I’m not even one of our good looking friends?
Dawn thought about this for a second and then took sip of her beer.
“You’re like the mature woman of our group of friends. Like, you are definitely, probably the best in bed. But you are like a mature woman.”
And then she added for emphasis: “Like a mature, sexy woman.”
“I’m younger than all of you!”
She sipped her beer again. “Yeah.”