wc 1340 /NaNo/Writing Doodle/Did I shave my legs for this?

"Romance is dead," Bernard said to me over his stack of pumpkin waffles.

"You are just becoming jaded," I said.  "Just because you didn't catch the bouquet at the wedding doesn't mean romance isn't dead.  People write about true love and romance all of the time so it must happen to some of them." Just not Bernie and Bernie.  But we have each other and our dogs, that is enough. for now.

He took a deep breath and said, "I really, really want that to be true. I want prince charming to whisk me away in his carriage and lavish me with gifts. I want him to take me all of the fabulous places I see in the magazines, and I don't mean just for happy hour.  And I want him to be hung like a horse. Oh and I want him to love me for my mind and not my body."

So did I. Sort of.  Kind of.  Maybe.  In all actuality my life is pretty decent.

Sure I've had to fire Vic as my friend and I had to get a restraining order against Grady, but other than that things weren't too bad.  And then there was the issue in civil court with Daniel about changing his lease in the middle without provocation. And needing to look for yet another place to live, but I did get to keep Louie.

As for romance?  Now I just get excited for other people's excitement.  It is easier and I don't risk anything. I'm great at being their cheerleaders and later at bringing the tea and sympathy.

"Love is kind of like playing the lottery," I said.  "It's a fifty fifty proposition."

"I don't think that's quite the odds for the lottery, Bern." Bernard lifted the small bottle of Mrs. Butterworth's original pancake syrup and drizzled it all over his waffle stack.

Did he need more syrup? Those waffles were kind of sweet on their own. Not to mention the powdered sugar on the waffles and the whipped cream. Not my body, my life, or my blood sugar.  He was over twenty-one and free, he was entitled to make his own decisions.

"When I'm sad I eat sugar." He licked his lips.  "What? I go to the gym and then I get happy again."

"I'm not saying anything," I said.  I forked another piece of waffle, plain, and brought it to my mouth.  I lowered my fork again thinking about whether or not I was really hungry. "Hey, let's play the lottery! what do you say?"

For one dollar, I could easily take a chance and see how the chips would fall.

"Scratch card?" he asked.

"Why not.  Cheap, easy, and fun. Plus there's a better chance to win," I said.

"Sounds like my last five relationships: cheap, easy, and fun."

"In that case, maybe we should go for a bigger pot.  Maybe invest a couple of bucks and see what happens," I said.

"A little of each.  Why not look for fun when we look for love?"

"Sure, why not?  The odds are fifty-fifty." What the heck, another bite of waffle wasn't going to kill me. At least not today.

"Not in my world.  They publish the actual statistics on the back of the scratcher cards and it is something huge like I don't know, one in a couple hundred thousand might win, like, five bucks."

"Nah.  Gambling is easy. You win or you don't. Just like the toss of the coin. Fifty-fifty." Sure I knew that there were more involved statistical elements involved than that, which explains why I didn't major in business but liberal arts. 

"Let's make an occasion out of it," I said.  "We'll buy the tickets together when we leave and we'll go some place for happy hour and see if we've won."

"The waiters have to be cute," he said.  

"Naturally."

"Let's do it the day after the tv drawing and we'll check the tickets together against the published winning numbers.  We'll be in a great place to celebrate if we win and if we don't, well, we can drown our sorrows."

"Perfect."

"Where do you want to go?"

"Zeus's."

Zeus's had a piano lounge and a great happy hour.  It was very up scale and I'd always heard good things about it.  

"Done."

"Oh, and Bernie, we should both dress accordingly to celebrate!"

"I won't embarrass you, I promise." I would have to go shopping to find something that he deemed appropriate, but if it was good quality and not trendy, I'd be able to wear it at least a couple of seasons. Yeah, an investment in myself while I gambled for different things.

The dress, the perfect dress, was a vintage Diane von Fürstenberg. wrap dress. Yellow base with a graphic black design over it. I paired it with a chunky black onyx necklace, matching bracelet, and tiny patent leather clutch. The dress camouflaged things that weren't perfect but made the rest of my curves look pretty darned good. 

After I got done with basic and even some advanced level grooming, I think it was the best I've looked on purpose for years. 

I was ten minutes early to meet Bernard at Zeus's.  Despite the accolades for the place, the neighborhood was marginal and the parking lot looked a little rough.  I double checked my lipstick in the rear view mirror before I got out of the car.  I didn't have any on my teeth.  Good.

I didn't want to sit in the car listening to the radio until Bernard got there.  I've been caught more than once lip synching to whatever was on the radio.  Unfortunately the last time it was a Justin Bieber song and I didn't think I'd ever live that down.

At the bar I ordered a Tom Collins: tart, refreshing, perfection in a glass.  I plunged the straw up and down in the glass as I waited. Straws are a single girls' best friend when she's in a bar.  It gives her hands something to do while she looks around trying not to look board or on the prowl.  and if she is on the prowl, well, there are things you can do with a straw if you want to send a message.  

As I glanced at my compatriots, I realized I was the only woman. Sure I was up to par with their dress code, but somehow it didn't make me feel better.

Fifteen or twenty minutes later, Bernard blew in the door.  His hair was damp and his clothes were tussled.  On his way across the bar to me, he must have kissed six or seven different men.  "It's been a great day," he said. 

Of course we were in a gay bar.  Why would I have thought we'd go somewhere else?  Especially since Chris and Vic were the ones who had raved about this place. If I had realized, well, I might have dressed differently. 

"I shaved my legs for this?" I muttered the words.  I needed to anyway, but for some reason I had kind of hoped I might see someone and strike up a Conversation.  At least I hadn't bought new lingerie to go with the dress.

"Something to celebrate?"

He gave me a wicked smile.  "Always."

He motioned to the waiter.  "I'll have what she's having."  

"Tom Collins?" he asked.

"I'll answer to that if you whisper it nicely," Bernard said.

"I get off in an hour, honey," the waiter said.  He winked at Bernard who blushed.

Bernard turned to me and said, "I am lousy at making up my mind, easier if I go with the crowd."

Good thing he wasn't a girl or he probably would have gotten pregnant in high school.

After his drink arrived, I removed the scratcher tickets and a quarter from my purse.  He brought out the three powerball tickets and a computer printout with the winning numbers.  

We didn't win. Not a thing.  Not a single thing.

But we will try again the next week.

~~

word count 1340