Couples meet at the bar, couples propose at the bar and couples breakup at the bar. We’re your one stop.
Last night a couple starts having a fight at the bar. Normally I would give them my undivided eavesdropping attention, but the Olympics were on. Ice skating. I love it. I watched it all last night and I will re-watch it today just to see it with the music.
The other bartender comes to my end of the bar. He tells me,
“It’s getting awkward down there.”
“They’re having a fight?”
I walk by,
“It would be nice if for once you could remember my birthday.”
For once. Oh dear. He doesn’t say anything. They pay and leave. I return my full attention to the twizzles, a required ice dance move. Twizzle, it doesn’t have the same gravitas as a triple axel, but if the announcers are to be believed, the twizzle is to ice dancing what the triple axel is to figure skating. The other bartender snaps me out of my ice skating reverie with kit-kats and exclaims,
“Oh no. They’re coming back in.”
The fighting couple are back at the bar. Maybe they’ve reconciled? She plops down, arms folded across her chest. Nope. Still fighting. Whether he knows it or not.
They order more drinks. Why are they extending this misery? She continues,
“It would be nice to celebrate Valentine’s Day.”
I’m tempted to tell her that if her birthday isn’t getting celebrated then she can probably forget about any other holidays, except for maybe the Superbowl.