I'm at the bar writing when I really should be reading. I just haven't written in in so long that it feels good to finally put my thoughts on paper rather than filling my head with someone else's words. So I do what I want, write and enjoy a glass of wine.
I'm in a public man cave, a old dive bar that my grandpa use to get drunk at. It tends to be more of a hipster hangout these days but on this sunny mid-week after noon guys that would have like to drink with grandpa are gathered, they arrive in twos. they've come to feed their beer guts and work their farmers tans. I'm they only one drinking wine. It's a nicely balanced blend with lots of dark fruit flavors that as a by the glass wine just aren't done justice. this is a bottle best enjoyed among friends. the place and moment are not doing this wine justice.
Nor is my outfit she would think. why waste the magic she sent me out the door with in a place like this. agreed is my reply to her voice in my head, but I'm finishing my wine. Patience it turns out is a virtue. when I'm finally putting any empty glass down to walk out the door we connect. even in here the magic work. I shouldn't be surprised anymore, I already know that under the charms of her spell they can't help but flock to me. I can't pull away now, this new beauty lovely brown eyes catch my gaze once more. what's a guy to do but continue to ride the flow.