"Here we are, Miss Rissa. Just send me a message when you're ready for me to pick you up."

"Thanks, Ed!" I chirp as I climb out. It's chilly tonight, and we even got a little snow, but that didn't stop me from wearing my new Gucci slingback heels. Never mind that they were half my last paycheck. They were worth it, an investment for my solo dates.

Besides, it was totally fate how I came across them, I was randomly checking my email on the bus Monday morning when I saw I had an email that Macy's was having a huge shoe sale. Isn't it sweet how they keep frequent customers informed?

So anyway, I figured I would just stop by in case there was a killer deal, and - well, these weren't exactly on a killer deal, but they are so cute and lavender, how could I pass them up?

Tonight, they are walking me into a comedy show, along with the sexy little black dress I have on with them. Conner thought this would be a good second date, a chance to loosen up and laugh a little. With it being Wednesday and a work night for me, we won't be meeting after the date tonight. Instead, I'll text him a brief update, and then on Saturday morning, we'll discuss tonight's date and the one I will be going on on Friday night.

Hitting the ground running, Conner had dorkily said.

I had to sign all these boring papers and everything. Conner was taking them all seriously and being a big worry wart, but I just signed them all so we could move on to the cooler thing! They are renting us a place out of the city to 'debrief," as Conner calls it. They told me I can decorate it however I want and it's all a business write-off! I can't wait to get a look at it so can pick a color scheme.

I log into my new anonymous social media handle, aptly named @whoisshe, because Emma wants everyone to wonder but give them nothing but questions. I like her; she's fun.

I step into the comedy club, which is dark with dusky lighting. The floor is covered with a thin red carpet that looks like it's seen better days. Several people are milling around, mostly couples. It's a show with two free drinks included. I am already prepaid, so they scan my ID and send me right in once I get to the front.

I step into a dimly lit bar with lots of tall tables and a huge wrap-around bar. Several people have started making their way towards it, and I follow.

I quickly find myself stuck behind a huge crowd with very little hope of being seen by either of the bartenders. 

The girl, a tall redhead, is shamelessly flirting with some guy at the end of the bar, and he is loving her attention, leaning in and smiling, touching her cheek as she giggles.

I glance to the other side and see the other bartender, a guy who, no joke, looks like a young  version of Jackson from Grey's Anatomy. He is totally swamped, hustling fast, while the redhead continues to do nothing to help him.

"Everyone can follow me to be seated, and a server can bring your drink!" the hostess hollers, and the bulk of the crowd, including myself, begins to follow her through an open partition to the second area.

There are several small tables all facing a stage, and I am seated at a tall table for two by myself. I am trying my best not to look at all the couples who came together tonight and embrace this solo thing. A server comes by, and I order a lemon drop martini as I settle in and get ready for the show.

When she returns with my drink, I am blown away. It looks gorgeous with a sugared rim and a lemon twist. I snap a picture of it for my Instagram post, ensuring the stage can be seen behind it. I tag both Conner and the place, then post it, and then I put my phone away to be in the moment.

The host introduces some local comedian I had never heard of, but I recognize him. He's the guy that was flirting with the female bartender earlier.

He introduces himself and then dives into his set, talking about married life.

Married life? He was just letting some chick flirt with him and loving it. I frown, sulking down in my chair as I sip my drink.

Wow, this is one of the best lemon drop martinis I've ever had. It's the perfect balance of sweet and sour with a good bit of booze. I could live off this drink and be happy for the rest of my life. 

The comedian continues with a lame joke about Amazon drivers getting worried when they don't have packages to drop off. The crowd laughs politely, but I don't. I am still annoyed on behalf of his wife.

"When my wife and I argue, I always get the last word. They're usually, "I'm sorry. You're right." The comedian continues, and the crowd laughs. I continue to sip my drink, still unamused.

"I actually haven't spoken to my wife in five years," he pauses to get the crowd to react and then continues. "I don't like to interrupt her, you know."

He earns only a tittering of laughter for that one, and I can see that affects him. It's slight, but his body tenses just a little.

Good, stop using your poor wife to get laughs when you don't even respect her. I silently launch the words his way with a dark glare.  

"My wife and I have been married for twenty-five years now..."   Everyone applauds, well, except me. "Thank you! It's not always easy."

Some guy yells out damn right, and I roll my eyes.

"My son came to me a few days ago, and he said, Dad, what is it like being married? So, I told him to leave me alone, and when he did, I asked him why he was ignoring me."

That gets a big pop of laughs and encourages him. His eyes twinkle as he starts his next line.

"The main thing about marriage is you got to keep it fresh, guys. Don't forget to wine and dine her. I just took my wife out for dinner last weekend. Funny story." He pauses, sips a drink, and then continues. "The waiter, for some reason, took my order first. I ordered the steak special medium-rare. The waiter asks, aren't you worried about the mad cow? So I said, nah, she can order for herself."

The crowd roars with laughter, and I crinkle my nose in distaste. That's enough of this. I need another drink, so I get up. I notice the bar part is now closed off, but there is a door that a server walks through. She has a tray of drinks and a flushed face, and I can see she's busy.

"Oh, I can get you a drink so you won't miss the show," she says quickly.

"Don't worry about it. I prefer to get my own," I tell her.

"Are you sure?"

"Go," I urge her as I slip through the door to the bar, and she takes off into the room I'd just escaped.

I don't see the flirty redhead behind the bar, just the Jackson look-alike texting on his phone. He looks up as I walk in. As I get closer, I see his facial features are a bit sharper than the actor's, and he does look much younger but so hot, could be a model for sure with those cheekbones.

He's wearing a black button-down that is fitted to his skinny frame. The sleeves are rolled up to show off his forearms and a few bracelets. His eyes scan my dress and flicker slightly when he sees the shoes.

He's into me, isn't he? Nice! I feel a burst of confidence.

"Those real or knock-offs?" He nods his head down at the shoes. 

"Real," I boast. 

I knew this outfit would be a hit, and I am feeling smug as I step up to the stool. I know the rules: no guys, no hook-ups, but a little harmless flirting to boost my ego won't hurt, right?

"Were you the one who made the lemon drop martini that should win Michelin stars?" I ask with a slightly coy smile as I push my boobs together. 

"Well, it wasn't feral Felicia over there, so yeah," he says, motioning to the partition wall. I see the redhead is back and perched in front of the open door, watching the show. "You can put your girls away, hon. You and I have the same type."

"Oh," I laugh and relax in my chair, and then a wave of guilt washes over me, and it hits hard. 

That was almost my first mistake. I can't think about chatting up guys while I'm doing this. Taking this seriously means a lot to Conner, and he'd be upset to know I even thought about flirting with a guy on a solo date. I promise myself not to consider anything like that again; I know how easily I get carried away.

 I lucked out tonight with this reality check. Do I mention it to Conner in our debrief, though? 

I decide to worry about that later and watch as the bartender starts adding stuff to the shaker, committing it to memory so I can recreate it the next time I throw a party. I am impressed to see he zests a lemon right into it. No wonder it was so good. He starts shaking it and then strains it into a chilled glass with a sugary rim. I take it eagerly from him the moment it's finished. 

"You know they have servers taking drink orders inside—"

"So I don't have to miss the guy rag on his wife, yup, I know."

"But if you stayed another five minutes, you'd get to the body shaming stuff," he says dryly.

"Oh, that already started just as I was leaving."

"In that case." He pours us each a shot of grey goose, we slam them, and I chase mine down with that perfect martini. I could seriously slurp these down all day.

"Why are you wasting those shoes on this when you don't even have a date?" he asks as he arches one of his perfectly sculpted eyebrows.

"I'm— taking a break from men," I leave it at that. One of the forms I signed was called an NDA and was all about not talking about this. That might be hard for me, I tend to blurt out shit to strangers at bars. 

"Good for you. I keep trying to do that, but I like a good dick too much to give them up, even if half of them are dicks."

I spit my drink out, laughing at that, and he quickly hands me a napkin to clean myself up. 

"That is going to be my one issue with this," I admit with a slight groan as I slurp my drink. "No men is one thing. How am I supposed to go no sex?"

"Can't you do a no men, expect hookups thing?"

"That won't work for me...I'll get all attached." I can freely admit this now. It stings a little, but it's true. "I have to do it right, cold turkey."

"I have a friend, that works at Sex World I can hook you up with a discount code, so you can you know..."

"Buy a synthetic dick?" I offer.

He blinks. "Did we just become best friends?"

I nod. "I mean, yeah, I think we did."

I pull out my phone. "What's your name and number? I need that code."

"Derek, you?"

"Rissa."

He takes my phone, and I take his so we can type each other's contacts in. I type in Rissa with a high-heel emoji, and when I get mine back, I see he typed The Michelin star guy with a star emoji next to it.

"We are meant to be best friends," I declare.

A small squelch pulls our attention over to the redhead who has gotten in the way of a server running back in, causing both of them to stumble, but the server stops them from falling. She looks flustered as she hurries off to the computer. The redhead just stands there awkwardly as if unsure what to do next.

"More like incompetent Felicia," Derek mutters, looking annoyed.

"You looked like you were doing everything when I got here," I mention.

"Girl, all the time, and it's a tip share too!"

"That's bullshit!" I exclaim, angry for him.

"It is but I can't get too mad," he leans closer and lowers his voice. "I make damn good money here. We get minimum wage at a higher rate for living in the city plus tips. Some nights, we make five hundred dollars- plus. Depending on who the comedian is and how busy we are."

"In a night!" I gasp, my eyes going wide as saucers.

"That's a great night, not always, but .. it is really good money." He looks at Felica again and then back at me. "You looking for work? I can put a word in for you. They want to fire her but need a replacement first."

"I'm twenty-nine too old to bartend," I say with a sad sigh. I bet it would be fun, though.

"You're never too old to bartend. I'm thirty-six."

"Shut the front door!" I lean over the bar, peering at his face with zero regard for his personal space. "I can't see a single wrinkle!"

"You won't find one. I'm perfect," he says with an easy shrug. "What do you do for a living?"

"I work in a call center," I confess.

"Oh girl, no, all those customer fights will give you all kinds of early wrinkles."

"But I've been working hard, and I'm close to getting promoted," I say hastily.

"Promoted to what?"

"I don't know yet. I just know it's coming.."

"Oh please, it'll be a few bucks more to work that much harder. All those office jobs do is suck your soul from you."

He's not wrong, but..... "I know, but it's been so many years, and I've been passed over so many times now. I know the next one will be huge and have my name on it."

"What if it doesn't?"

"I don't know..." The old me would have argued with him and said I know it's coming, but I'm starting to believe my own hype less and less. 

"I'm serious. Come work here," he says.

"I can't, I don't even know how." 

"I can tell by your drink order and appreciation for it that you know drinks. You have a great personality, and that makes money. Everything else you can learn, I'll train you." 

I find myself at a loss for words. Is he serious? I can't just leave my job to become a bartender, could I?

"Why rot away behind a desk when you can do this? You talk to people and have a good time while you make drinks." 

"I don't know..." If I'm being honest, I think I would love bartending, it would be like hosting a party and getting paid for it, but I have been busting my ass for a decade now. How could I just leave?

I can hear my dad now, "Of all the hair-brained things you've done, Rissa this one tops the cake."

"Just think about it," Derek advises as if he read my mind.

Loud applause causes both of us to look at the wall.

"Probably wrapping up soon, and then everyone comes out for drinks, and I won't be able to find Felica anywhere," Derek predicts. "Please, you'd be saving my life if you came and worked here." 

"I'll think about it, okay," I promise as I jump off the stool.

"All I can ask, talk to you soon Rissa."

"Night, Derek!" I duck out the door into the cool wintery air, but just before I grab my phone to text Ed, I remember something and push the door back open.

"Don't forget to send me that link. I need a good dick!" I yell out to Derek, who immediately starts laughing.

Uh oh... 

The murmur of stunned voices that follow my loud request quickly makes me realize the wall  between the two rooms is back up. 

A lot, and I mean a lot, of people heard that, and most of them are looking my way, as a bunch of them start laughing. 

The damn comedian heard it, too, and he's looking at me like a total perv as he licks his lips.

 Gross. 

Derek is laughing so hard tears are coming down his face. I flip him off and then turn around and run, beelining right out the door. 

I don't stop until I am far down the sidewalk, leaning against a guardrail to catch my breath, as I text Ed to come to get me.

"Well, I guess date two was a fail."