No Matter What You Do, Don’t Call The Number On The Wall Of The Bar Bathroom

Jenny laughed and said, “Well, I should be up there at some point tonight. Me and the girls are gonna go bar hopping.”

We exchanged some polite small talk and she ended the call. It occurred to me that I hadn’t set foot in that bar in more than a few years. Even still, I knew where it was and I was more than a little curious to see what Jenny looked like. I suppose I wanted to see what kind of woman would have her number plastered on a men’s room wall. I went home and changed into jeans and an old Iron Maiden t-shirt before heading up to Club Oasis and ordering a pitcher of Pabst to myself.

I found myself a nice table to the back of the main room and sat watching the door as I tried to figure out who Jenny was. Over the course of the first twenty minutes several women had walked through the door and none of them seemed to be looking for anyone in particular. I was just about to give up on my morbid curiosity when I felt a small hand rest on my shoulder and looked up to see a short blonde woman with a pretty face standing beside.

She smiled and said, “Blake, I’d remember meeting a guy as good looking as you. Where’d you get my number?”

I was busted. She was wearing cutoff jean shorts and a white tank top as she slid into the seat across from me and said, “Don’t bother. I already know. There’s only one reason random guys call me. So was it the Circle K or Tim Hortons?”

I stared down into my beer before topping off my glass and killing the mug. She laughed and said, “Well that answers my second question.”

She proceeded to pour herself a beer. “So what were you expecting to get out of this Blake?”

I looked up and said, “Honestly I was just curious.”

Jenny took a sip of her beer and turned to the side saying, “He’s over here girls.”

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