Why dating/talking to the bartender at your favorite bar is a no-go Pt. 1 #ATinderSeries
I mean, the title itself should be self-explanatory. Ever heard of the saying “Don’t shit where you eat?”
So I used to go to this bar all the time. For the sake of this story, let’s call it Central Perk. From May to November, if I had something to celebrate or wanted to give a recommendation for a new bar, I would tell people to go there. I LOVED this place. The drinks were amazing. The bartenders gorgeous. The owner sweet and generous. The clientele older (not college-aged) and young-professional. It was an oasis of good taste in the rubble that surrounded Baton Rouge’s nightlife scene.
And then, after hanging out with one of my good friends, she tells me that Central Perk just got a new bartender who was definitely my type and really attractive. And then we would be perfect together. Being the inquisitive person I am, I figured that I’d want to know if my friend could actually get it right. I wanted to see if she really did know my type. So I said screw it and went with her to Central Perk.
I walk in and the place is PACKED. I mean, people lined the intimate space from bar to wall. There was little to no wiggle room. I also felt like a giant because most of the people in the bar were no taller than 5’10”, which is pretty tall, but my head poked above the crowd. As soon as I turned toward the bar (I was literally ten feet away from the bar itself), this really cute bartender waves me down and yells, “Sweetie, what do you want to drink?”
I look around because there is no way this person is talking to me… I mean there’s a layer of people separating me from the bar. No, this person is definitely talking of someone else.
The bartender then gets the guy in front of me to tap me and ask me what I want. I’m taken aback. So of course, I pipe up as loud as I can, “I want something spicy and minty. You can handle that?” The bartender says, “Don’t worry, honey, I got you.” And got me this person did.
Over the course of two hours, this bartender, which I found out was the one to whom my friend wanted to intro me, handed me five Pepino Diablos, the best drink ever. And I happily drank them. And every time this bartender came over, we would learn a little more about each other. This person was so interesting. Between recently moving to Baton Rouge from New Orleans to finish up school and working in various trades, I became intrigued by this charming bartender. And so I started flirting back. And after telling the bartender to message me sometime so that we could get to know each other more, we exchanged numbers and I wrote a cute little note on my receipt (AND left a pretty nice tip, too!).
Side note: I found out that this bartender and I actually matched up on Tinder before we met in real life. And we had had a pretty decent conversation. But, I totally did not recognize this person until I was presented with the actual conversation… Always be cognizant of your previous conversations, friends!
From here, the bartender and I conversed for about a week non-stop. And then all communication ceased. Like I would text something I thought was pretty witty and cute or even something I knew this person liked, but I was unable to elicit any responses. I was genuinely surprised – I mean, to me it seemed as if we had a legitimate connection, but I guess I was wrong. So, in true Kittu fashion, I stopped contacting this person altogether. No texts, Facebook messages, no nothing. For six weeks.
And I was good for those six weeks. Whenever I saw that the bartender was close (physically or through digital means), I ignored the proximity and continued on with my life. But all things that are good for eventually come to an end… Of course I reached out and straight up asked this person on a date.
But, the bartender enthusiastically accepted and was surprised it had taken me this long to ask. Of course I was on cloud 9 (floating up there with my bartender lol). We set the lunch date for the next day, after which the bartender confirmed to be the point of contact for this rendezvous. I was even happier – an event/meeting/date that I don’t have to follow up on? Things couldn’t have been better. But then, lunchtime came and went. I texted the bartender asking what was going on (because common courtesy – and my PR nature – dictate that you at least inform the other parties if anything changes in plans). I finally got a text back two hours later stating that an alarm didn’t go off and that the bartender is going to be late for work. At least I got a sorry, but there was no suggestion for future plans. It sucked.