A Star Wars Cantina Vibe

"I'm so broke," Cara said. 

"I know," I interrupted.

But she kinda talked over me with, "So I'll totally get you back when I'm like... employed."

"I know," I said, forcing a consoling smile and hoping my face looked convincing. I knew she wouldn't pay me back but I'd accepted that before we'd walked into this Star Wars Cantina-looking place. 

Why was I was here again? I wasn't feeling particularly homosexual today, so how had I ended up at a gay bar. 

Then again this was where I'd found a one-night stand before, I thought. 

Why hadn't Cara and I hooked up? I thought, looking at her brunette hair bobbing around as she handed the bartender my credit card.

She's nuts, I remembered. She deeply bruised a man's kneecap with a baseball bat from unconfirmed "cheating" rumors. They weren't even dating so when she'd cried on my shoulder, calling him a cheater, I just went with it. 

"Yeah, yeah," I'd said. "What an asshole."

"You're one of the only people I can talk to about this stuff," she'd said, rubbing my shoulder. I felt guilty for getting turned on in that moment. I laughed out loud imagining if I'd gone in for a kiss at that moment. 

Something's wrong with me, I thought. I looked at Cara. She looks so sweet, I thought. No Bradley, no. Just. No. 

She finally got her drink from the bartending Bear (by LGBTQ standards), and we stood next to each other watching the live music. Cara's drink was red, so I assumed it was a vodka redbull. It was in a large pitcher so I assumed my credit card bill would be large too. Great.

I stood there sipping my tiny non-alcoholic cranberry soda. My feet hurt. I looked around and saw other cute girls in groups. I could never tell which ones were taken and which ones were single. I also always wanted some sign that they were into me. I prided myself on being able to tell once I started talking to one. But THAT required actually TALKING to one. 

And today I had no interest in being brave. 

So we stood there and watched cute girls (maybe/probably lesbian) fawn over the singer who was singing his heart out. 

Cara got to talking to some tall guy so I wandered to the outside patio and sat on a ledge of a fountain. It was the only available space without bird poop. I tried to get comfortable by myself. I didn't really want to talk to anyone so I stirred my drink and alternated between sips, staring at the ground, scanning for cute girls, and more sips. 

I felt my phone vibrate. 

"Where did you go?" asked Cara. 

The bar was packed and I didn't feel like answering. 

If I don't feel like answering I won't, I told myself. I'm tired of always doing things just because I'll feel guilty. 

I pulled my writing utensils out of my backpack like a weirdo and started drawing the outside bar in front of me. I was terrible at drawing, but oddly pleased with what came out. 

Yeah, this will do, I said in my head. 

I called an Uber and texted Cara: "Hey just seeing this but I'm actually in an Uber heading home, sorry." My phone vibrated after but I ignored it because I knew it was her upset with me. 

The Uber's window was smeared with (most likely) child's fingerprints. The kid's carseat to my left had crumbs all around it. 

I never want kids, I thought. 

And I walked upstairs when I got home, lit a scented candle, and admired my weird bar pic. 

Tonight Was Worth It.