Mr. Bartender. I call him “Mister” because I know that he is more than a simple bartender. I’m talking about the handsome on with chiseled muscles and cute dimples. He has secrets he will never tell. But I’m onto him. I see through his pitiful disguise.
I began to realize that something was going on the day we met. You see, I walked up to the bar and he asked “What can I get for you?” (How did he know I wanted a drink?) I replied, “Something good. Surprise me!” He casually grabbed a glass and mixed me a Tequila Sunrise. How did he know that was my favorite drink? There was definitely more to this handsome man than met the eye. Though this event got me thinking, I wasn’t actually positive that he was hiding something until a few weekends later.
It was a busy Friday night and the band was playing a slow one. Though I didn’t know how to slow dance, it looked so much fun. As I stood there wishing I had someone sweet to sweep me off my feet and dance with me, up walked none other than Mr. Bartender. Do you know what he had the nerve to say? It completely blew his cover. He said, “I’ve seen you dance. You’re not very good. Would you like me to teach you? I’d be honored to have you as my dance partner.” How could he know so much about me? It suddenly hit me. Maybe Mr. Bartender was a mind reader. I was almost positive of this fact, but decided to keep it to myself and go on home.
The next evening I was standing outside of the bar. There’s a deck with soft, romantic light. People go out there to make-out, so I usually steer clear of the area. However, it was such a beautiful night, though freezing cold; I couldn’t resist checking out the stars. I was wondering how people could ever find all the constellations we learned about back in junior high. All of a sudden Mr. Bartender strutted over to me with his coat. “You look cold,” he exclaimed as put the coat around my shoulders. I just stood there, wondering how he knew. Next thing I know, he was pointing up at the stars. “That’s Pheonix and Orion is over there.” He informed me. “Stop! Just stop it!” I whispered. “I know what you do. You’re a sneaky creep. Stop reading my mind. Go join a freak show!”
I must have been right about Mr. Bartender. I’m not sure if he still reads my mind, but he leaves me alone. When I go to the bar for a drink, he only gives me things I actually order. When I’m near the dance floor, he doesn’t try to dance with me. And he definitely stays away from me when I go outside. Aah! Things seem to be back to normal. I just hope his mind reading doesn’t blow MY cover!