Bisexual Girls Club

In just 20 minutes I’ll be at The Sea and relaxing with a drink in hand. I’ll have just one drink or two and then head back home. Getting out of the house for a little while is okay for tonight. No need to overdo it.

Damn, it’s been almost an hour and I’m still waiting for this train to leave. That Shuttle detour took even longer than I imagined.

Finally! It took yet another half hour to go just one stop (at this hour I was not going to walk around in my mini dress and heels by myself. I don’t know these streets as well as Manhattan). At least I’m out of the station now anyway. So I’ll just make it in time for one drink at least.

Standing outside – it looks to me more like a Bridge and Tunnel crowd. Not what I expected from Williamsburg, but I came all the way over so I have to at least check it out inside.

Ah, what the heck, I’ll find another place. It’s just a little bit after 130am and the bartender is giving the last call already. That’s a few points off this place. And I heard it was the place to be. I’m so much more used to places like Cafeteria in Manhattan!

Fortunately it sounds like a party, though the place is a bit too large and bright. In any case, maybe this night won’t be a complete loss. It is going to take me a while to get back home, so at least let me get some semblance of a buzz going. Karaoke may not be my favorite thing, but at least it’s something that’s open. I’ll just have one drink and then try the more mellow surf bar up the street.

Wow, STIFF drink. And only $5… me likes, me likes…

Still it’s kinda noisy and people aren’t all that friendly – they all seem to be out on dates. I somehow think Europeans got this socializing thing down better than Americans do. If I’m not on my top game, I’ve noticed that nobody is ever really that open to branching out of their own little world. I’ve always found that attitude to be very different outside of here. I remember when I went to Morocco, all you had to do was bump into someone and they would share their hash. Then you’d instantly have a new friend for that night. Let me check out the surfer bar if I can fare any better there.

***

Okay, that was another dud. Sand on the ground was interesting, but the drinks were at least $2 more than at the Karaoke bar and the company was not exactly pleasant. The place was practically empty and two of the four patrons were actually employees visiting on the night off. Some girl said she wore the wrong shoes and I responded, “When you lose, don’t lose the lesson.” I could have parlayed that (from some spam) into a good flirting technique, but her wimpy looking borefriend whined till she agreed to go back into the deserted bar.

At least the last place had cheap and strong drinks. Taking my own advise, I decided not to lose the lesson and figured it was better to go where I could enjoy a drink and at least that way the night would not be a total loss. As soon as I realized there was a Karaoke bar downstairs I figured I’d give it a shot – at least there was some possibility of meeting people there.

There was way too much sausage and the company wasn’t all that inviting. I mistakenly had such high hopes for Brooklyn, but I suppose this was just not really my type of neighborhood. Well, It was a smidgen better than any other place I’d been to so far, so I was at least going to finish my drink. A cute girl and her date sat next to me. Every time he got up I would chat her up. Hell, guys do that shit to me all the time when I’m on a date. Not that it panned out to say taking her back to my place, but at least it was temporarily entertaining. They had just reunited after some time. They had known each other in high school but never dated. She confided to me that she might sleep with him that night. Unfortunately, the bar had a very straight vibe. It felt a little like midtown Manhattan or even Queens. Note to self: Don’t come back. In the meantime I decided to enjoy a second drink before taking the journey home.

Soon I had a bunch of large unattractive guys make a few attempts at flirting with me till an older guy sat right next to me and just ordered a drink. I would say he was a bit heavier set than I am usually into, but he was cute and he made me laugh for some reason. We somehow got to talking about his gun. He was a cop. He had his gun strapped to his ankle. Wow, I wanted to squeeze that. It is taking entirely too long to fulfill that fantasy of mine. I checked out his badge. I took a phone picture with it. He bought me two or three drinks and a shot. I was VERY happy, despite not having too much conversation and not meeting any hot chicks. He offered to take me home after I told him I’d be fine going back via train-shuttle-train. It seemed like a good idea at the time to accept his help, but I did insist that I just wanted to go straight home.

By his car, I leaped on him and kissed him and it felt good, but I was probably high from the drinks and the thought of shooting his gun (his real gun not his flesh gun). He let me in his car, all the while probably thinking he would be getting sex. Luckily for me, I noticed he wasn’t quite going the right way and he kept talking about his place. I insisted emphatically that I had only agreed to let him take me home. He seemed worried that I didn’t trust him (which I momentarily did not, but trusted my fighting instincts well enough to prepare myself immediately in case this got ugly) and assured me that he would not try anything. He reminded me that he was a cop and he had no bad intentions.

He pulled over (at which point I was ready to run from the car if I had to, but he said he was just going to take a leak. I saw him get out and waited for a little further information before making my next move). He did indeed take a leak on the side of the road. Suddenly I needed fresh air. I opened the car door and threw up all over the ground. Some of it got on the car door. Phil the cop didn’t seem to get too upset. He just asked me if I was okay, drove me home and even kissed me goodbye (yuck-did he forget what just happened? Was he drunk too??)

All I thought later was that I could have really gotten myself into a big mess. Somehow I managed to use some judgment and also got a lot of lucky too. Phil the cop did not harm me, but he could have! I pride myself in being able to get myself home safe, but simply being drunk by yourself and going home with a stranger (who had also been drinking, though he had said he had sobered up, but was I in any state to really know the difference??) can be a recipe for disaster. I am reminded that the buddy system is always best. It probably would be better to just improve on my judgment calls going forward. How many women find themselves not being fully aware of their surroundings after a night of drinking. Not all the people you come across will be as nice as Phil the cop.