Green Light

I couldn’t tear my eyes away from her. The way she moved, the way the music thumped through her body, and her, lost in her own world. It was like watching a car crash. What on earth was she doing? You wanted to look away, but you just couldn’t.

Her arms were best described as flailing. Long, big gestures that moved contrary to the rest of her body. Like those inflatable men outside car dealerships. Her hips and legs somehow moved opposite to the beat of the music, black doc martens stomping into the ground. The DJ was loving it, nodding his head vigorously at her, fist pumping into the air. Not that she noticed, as her eyes were mostly shut, face peaceful as though she was sat at the beach, face tilted towards a warm sun and blue sky.

The combination of manic dancing and closed eyes appeared hazardous to the other dancefloor attendees, a few older birds attempting to enjoy a dance, while glancing often and warily over their shoulders lest they be smacked by a flailing arm or trod on by an enthusiastic boot. She was now doing what looked like an amended variation of the sprinkler, but with more leg movements.

“You want another?” The young, hipster bartender nodded towards my empty glass. Bartenders seemed to fall into two categories, the indie male complete with beard, tattoos, and round glasses, or the impeccably cool female with the short fringe and attitude. This one was the first, which I preferred. Less intimidating.

“Yeah, go on then.” If my Thursday evening had already turned to shit, another beer could only make it better. The bartender slid my drink towards me, and I took a long sip, glancing over my shoulder towards the dancefloor. Watching the girl dancing had, at least temporarily, eased my wallowing. She wasn’t there anymore though. The DJ now looked bored, and the oldies looked relieved. I sighed, having lost my entertainment, now left with nothing to ease my despair.

“Hard day at the office?” the bartender asked, his eyes lingering on my blue button down, that my friend Alex always said was ill-fitting and should be thrown in the bin. I liked it though. It was comfortable and not skintight like the shirts him and his finance bros liked to wear. Probably to show off their muscles.

“Yeah, something like that,” I lied. I wish it had been a work problem, like a delivery running late, or a budget blowing over, or some kind of technical investigation that needed doing. Those problems are easy to fix. Getting stood up for the third time - not so easy.  

This was the third time in just two weeks I’d been stood up or cancelled on at the last minute. It was disheartening, disappointing, and a downright waste of time. I was just about ready to give up on the apps. Which I know I’d said before, multiple times, but knew I never would. There just wasn’t a better way to meet girls these days. At my engineering office, there were approximately four women, and all of them either married or over the age of 55. And I wasn’t about to be one of those weirdos creeping on girls at the gym. I checked my phone. No new matches.

It was fine a few years ago when most of the boys were single. It was beers after work, footy games, and golf on the weekends. Then, suddenly, they seemed to pair off one by one, like some version of Noah’s Ark, except I didn’t get the memo and was left alone, waving goodbye to the ship. Once they all moved out and in with their girlfriends, there were more nights than I would have liked alone on the couch watching MasterChef with my cat, and despondently swiping on Tinder, Bumble, Hinge, you name it.

I shook my head. All these friends with girlfriends, yet none of them had a friend they could set me up with. Not one. I was being scammed, clearly.  

I’d questioned Alex once on what that was all about, but all I got was a deer-in-headlights look and a “Dunno, mate,” and a shifty side eye that made me think there was more to it.

“Surely Lindsay has a friend who’s single?” I tried to say it casually, to not come off too sad and desperate.

I’d seen her, surrounded by her gaggle of girlfriends. Alex and Lindsay were getting married later this year, and she was having eight bridesmaids. Eight! I only knew this because Alex was always complaining about them constantly being at their place discussing wedding stuff. Which in fact, was why he was at my place watching the footy. He swore he would go crazy if he heard another mention of bouquets, or table settings, or gift bags.    

“Maybe, I’m not too sure,” he was now appearing to focus hard on the football game.

“I mean, she set up Rosie and Mark, didn’t she?” I pushed.

“Yeah, but I guess like, Rosie’s off the table now.”

Was he being intentionally dense? I shook my head, took a sip of beer, and decided to leave it and just watch the game.

That was a few months ago, and while I never broached the topic again, I did wonder what it was he was hiding from me. I checked my phone again, took a sip of beer, and thought about messaging the guys. Maybe one of them could join me. But chances were, they were probably all at home with their girlfriends.

“Hey Cale,” said a voice to my right. It was the girl from the dancefloor, who was now chatting to the hipster bartender. Of course, his name was Cale. I wondered if it was Cale with a C, or Kale like the vegetable. She leaned up against the bar, her long sleeved red shirt pooling on the sticky countertop. There was a pattern on her shirt that was either embroidered flowers, or birds, or sloth faces. Her short brown hair came to about her chin, and her fingernails, painted black, tapped the bar as she talked. There was an energy about her, like she couldn’t keep still.

“So, what will you have tonight?” asked Cale (or Kale).

“Hmm, not sure.” I was watching the interaction out of the corner of my eye, while drinking my beer.

“What are you having?” She asked me, suddenly.

So suddenly, in fact, that I choked on my beer. I coughed, my face flushing with embarrassment. She and the bartender watched me patiently, as my coughing seemed to go on for about five hours.

“Um, just a beer. A um, Carlton Dry.”

“Great. Two of those, thanks Cale.”

There was a silence as he left to pour the drinks. I wondered if I should say something to her. Why was she buying two? Was she here with a friend? I scanned the room, but it was only oldies, so it didn’t look likely. She was probably buying one for Cale. I opened my mouth to say something, as she hummed to herself, fiddled with the coasters, and inspected her fingernails. But before I could utter a word, Cale was back with the drinks.

She thanked him, picked up one of the glasses and took a drink. And didn’t stop. I watched, open mouthed, as she drained the entire glass of beer, burped, wiped her mouth on the back of her hand, then slid the other beer over to me. “Have a good night,” she said, then smiled and strode out of the bar.

I was dumbfounded. And embarrassed that I’d just sat here watching her with a stupid look on my face, in my stupid too-loose shirt, and didn’t say a single thing. I looked at Cale for an explanation. He was chuckling to himself, looking at the swinging exit door, seemingly amused but not surprised. He shrugged at me then wandered down the bar to collect glasses from the countertop. What just happened and who was this girl? I think I was in love.

The last beer left me pleasantly buzzed, and I fumbled with the keys to my apartment, while calling Alex. Finance guys were always working late, I was sure he would still be up.

“Hey man what’s up?”

I heard the tinny sound of him speaking through his headphones, and a whirr and crash in the background. Was he at the gym? At 10.30 pm at night on a Wednesday? Whatever, I didn’t want to know.

“So, this crazy thing happened at the bar. I think I’m in love.”

“Cool, good for you man, what’s her name?”

“Um, I don’t know.”

He laughed. “How do you not know? Didn’t you talk to her?”

I didn’t want to explain to him that I didn’t really get the chance, because I knew it would come out wrong. So, I changed the topic instead, feeling a surge of confidence from the beer and having a random girl buy me a drink.

“Hey so how come Lindsay doesn’t want to set me up with anyone? You can just be straight with me, it won’t like, hurt my feelings.”

I heard him exhale. “Okay look, please don’t take this the wrong way. Its…It’s not that she doesn’t like you, she does. But she might have mentioned once she thinks you’re a bit boring. Her words, not mine. But you know what her and her friends are like. They’re crazy. You’re probably better off without the drama.” He laughed.

My stomach dropped. This wasn’t what I expected him to say. Boring? Really? I was a civil engineer, not like, an accountant. And I just did normal stuff that any guy did. Didn’t I? Like playing golf, and watching football, although less of that now that all the guys had ditched me.

“Boring, really? Why would she say that?” My voice broke embarrassingly. “What because I’m not in finance and into going to the gym every second of the day?” I laughed, which came out sounding high pitched and forced.

“I think she just means like, you don’t take the initiative to do things sometimes. Like the girl tonight, why didn’t you ask her out? Or even get her name?”

I heard a slight ringing in my ears, and the buzz from the beers seemed to wash off me all at once. “I’ve gotta go, just got home and need to feed the cat, bye.” I hung up. Wait is this why the girl in the bar bought me a drink? Because I looked boring? Was she saying I looked like I could use some fun? I didn’t think she was having a joke at my expense.  

I fed Cheeto, who was meowing at me and pushing against my leg. Then I took a boring shower, brushed my boring teeth, and got into my boring bed.

I went back to the bar the next two nights, hoping to see her, or even Cale, who I could ask about her. Unfortunately, there was no sign of either of them. I was now getting used to drinking alone, feeling like Steve Carrell’s dorky dad character in Crazy, Stupid, Love. I looked at my phone, checking for new matches but only saw a message from Alex asking if we were all good and why I was ignoring his messages. I left him on seen, knowing I was being childish, but not caring.

The third night was a Saturday, and the bar was much more crowded. I pushed past a few people near the entrance, and was relieved and excited to see the bearded, glasses wearing face of Cale behind the bar.

“Cale!” I shouted, louder than intended. “How’s it going?”

He looked at me, blankly, clearly not recognising me, as he pulled a drink for another customer. I guess I had just been one of many sad, lonely guys drinking alone at the bar.

“I was um, here on Wednesday night,” I mumbled.

“Oh yeah!” he said, “I remember you. Good to see you back. What can I get for you?”

“Oh, just a beer, whatever’s the special is,” I said, then quickly adding before he could walk away, “Listen, do you know the girl that was there? She was on the dancefloor. Then she bought me a drink?”

“So that’s why you’re back,” he grinned. “Her name’s Daisy. Comes here sometimes on Wednesdays.”

He looked at me, as though assessing me. “She’s pretty full on. Do you think you can handle her?”

Was this another person thinking I was boring? This was getting ridiculous. I’d specifically worn my party shirt tonight, the one with flamingos.

“Yeah, I’ll be fine,” I replied, a bit coldly.

“Okay, good luck man,” he laughed. Then moved on to serve the next customer.

I sipped my beer, making small talk with a guy next to me, who was waiting for a friend. I glanced around the bar. Maybe there was a girl around here I could talk to? I didn’t want to get my hopes up for Daisy. Daisy, I thought, like from the Great Gatsby. I remembered studying the book in high school and crushing on Daisy, probably like every guy. But like Gatsby, I felt like I was in too deep, and didn’t think I could entertain the thought of another girl until I at least talked to her. So, I finished my beer, said bye to the guy next to me, and went home.

I returned on the bar on Wednesday. I’d been distracted the whole day at work, thinking about the possibility of seeing Daisy again, and if I did, what I would say to her. I forgot to dial into a meeting, spilled coffee over my desk, and just about killed Janine from HR when I walked into her in the hallway. I kept thinking about how I could make an impression on her, to show I’m not boring.

I got to the bar early, around 7.30 pm. I tried to stay at work as long as I could to kill time, but I was too restless, the office was too depressing, and I was getting nothing done anyway. I checked my watch. It was probably around 8 pm when I saw her last time, after my date that didn’t happen. Unfortunately, Cale was here again, probably judging me from behind his little round glasses. I ordered two beers and retreated to a table in the corner of the room.

It was around 8.15 pm when Daisy entered, and I noticed her instantly, from the energy she brought into the room. I was sure everyone noticed her, not just me. She waved hi to the DJ, ordered a drink from Cale, then sat on a stool near the dancefloor, nodding her head and tapping her feet to the music. It was a song by Britney that got her up and dancing. It was as uninhibited as last time. Arm movements, leg movements, and a look of utter tranquillity on her face. I watched in awe of the confidence, and the I don’t give a crap what anyone else thinks energy. She was like a magnet, a green light, and I felt an extraordinary pull. I had to know more about this girl.

I threw back the last of my drink and strode onto the dancefloor. Daisy looked over but didn’t stop moving. The DJ was playing “The Boys of Summer.” And without thinking too much, before I could talk myself out of it, I exhaled, closed my eyes, and started dancing. I took inspiration from Daisy’s dance moves, Michael Jackson, ballet dancers, and girls I’d seen in music videos. How I leapt and moved across that dance floor. I don’t think anyone had ever danced harder than I danced. I’ll show them boring!

I rose from a version of a slut-drop, where I had honestly felt close to putting my hip out. Daisy had stopped dancing and was watching me, her eyes alert and amused, the left corner of her mouth pulled back in a half smile. The DJ was whooping, but I didn’t dare turn around to see if anyone in the bar was watching me. I kept my eyes on Daisy.  

“Hi,” I said, panting slightly from the exertion. “I’m Richard.”

“Richard,” she said, slowly, as though rolling my name around in her mouth. “Well, Richard, has anyone ever told you that you look ridiculous?”

And she smiled big, eyes crinkling, and grabbed my hand.