Blame It on the Alcohol

Alcohol usually emboldens me. The liquid courage, as it is so appropriately called, makes my body tingle and I sometimes say and do things that I regret the morning after. So it's no surprise that I walked over to the generous stranger, beer in hand, that night at Coogans. He had bought me the Corona, after all.  The buzz that settled in my bloodstream convinced me I should be especially grateful and thank him up close and personal.

With confidence and blurred vision, I grabbed the empty chair next to him, sat down and said, “Thank you for the beer. You kind of rescued me there.”

He was speechless; truly shocked that a woman had taken the initiative and approached him instead of playing a coy game of gaze-and-look-away.

“I was going to tell those guys off for knocking over my drink,” I continued nonchalantly. “I wasn’t even half done and they didn’t apologize!” Generous Stranger cocked his head back and let out a hearty laugh. He beamed and I noticed he had a beautiful smile.

“You’re gorgeous. I’ve been watching you for about an hour,” he responded once he composed himself. “The first thing I noticed? Your eyes. They’re beautiful. And your energy…” Generous Stranger gazed into my eyes and smiled again. I felt goose bumps but wasn’t sure if it my body was responding to the alcohol, his charm or both. 

Soon, the dark bar was lit. House lights on, the bartenders hollered last called and there we were, at the end of our short night. But Generous Stranger wasn’t ready to go home, and with my blood alcohol content at a high, neither was I.

“Would you like to get something to eat?” he asked with hope in his voice.  I smiled, nodded and off we went—the Generous Stranger and the Semi-Drunk Girl. I just hoped I wouldn’t regret this in the morning.