DIVE BAR DIVA
SEATTLE, Washington The Inappropriate Beau returned home.
I was, in turns, gracious, chummy and an absolute cow. After much strangeness and snarkiness at my birthday party, we agreed to shelve the public appearances until friend not ex is once again our primary mode.
Some people maintain this is impossible. But our years of companionship far outweigh the odd, ill-fated romantic outbursts.
Plus, the man owes me big beers, by way of apology.
And IB's the only reliable witness to my dive bar diva moment, after an unexpected spanking in the Sloop Tavern.
Imagine the outrage: I'd traveled the world for a decade even lived in Rome, surely the slaphappy capital of female indignity, for two years without any unwelcome manhandling. Then, mere blocks from my sedate Seattle home, some frog-faced goon gets frisky in my local pub.
He received the worst of both continents: my specialty, it seems. The brisk blow of an offended European lady combined with the roundhouse of the Million Dollar Baby.
His head wobbled on his neck stem. A handprint bloomed on his cheek.
"What did you do that for?" my attacker whined, clutching his face.
And for once, the words arrived when I needed them.
"You slap my ass, I slap your face, asshole," I replied. Then I grabbed my tankard and stalked to a booth. Frog-face was deep-sixed, dragged back to pay the bill and apologize, then bounced again.
The poor bastard shipped out to Alaska on a fishing boat the next day. With his former in-laws, the ingrates who'd bet him $40 to assault me.
Now there's a summer to remember, I'm sure: "Hey Froggy, remember when you went a-courtin' and Miss Mousey whupped your sorry ass? Uh-huh."
Thus IB and I must remain in touch so we can laugh about the arc of 15 years from Skagit Valley brambles to the Battle of the Ballard Sloop.
Oh, he's an idiot. Once for running off with a German Backpacker, twice for telling me his new galpal has a diamond-filled tooth. Because we all know I lack the self-control to conceal such a prize tidbit.
But, with any luck, we'll lump along. Friends, after all, can be rare in cyborg-saturated modern life.
Waste not, want not...