I was pitifully drunk at Duso’s, having had at least 20 beers that night. I had approached a few women there before with nothing to show for it. I saw a girl with long, thick black hair running down past her shoulders turned away from me, scrolling aimlessly through her phone. She was sat at a table with four other young people, also on their phones. “I have to go and talk to her,” I thought. I pulled up a chair and enthusiastically said “Hi!” with a wide smile. She turned around, slowly, and looked at me. I woke up the next day, remembering only the face of what I thought was a middle-aged and weary woman. “What the fuck was I thinking?” was the first thought that entered my mind. Each person I met on Midland street seemed to take me down a vector; a trajectory through their world. This one, I was sure, would lead nowhere. How wrong I was.
I tried to think nothing of it, and when I went back the next few times I simply enjoyed myself, and I did a pretty good job at that. I’d sit and swivel in my stool and sing along to the songs I liked on the jukebox, not talking or really making eye contact with anyone. Evidently, I’d been noticed.
About a week after that approach I was there early on a weekday, and the place was nearly empty aside from a few lonely souls sitting at the bar. I noticed at one end, a cute, young black-haired girl sitting by herself on her phone. The song “Better Now” by Post Malone was playing. I’m not sure how I knew the lyrics but I knew them well enough to sing along. I noticed she was singling along with me, glancing at me occasionally. I took several long swigs of my PBR and decided that I had to go and sit next to her.
“Why are you sitting on your phone?” I teased playfully.
“I’m playing a game,” she replied.
“What game is it?” She set her phone down, looking somewhat annoyed but relented and gave me her full attention.
“I’m Eddie,” I said emphatically with the same smile as the last time I had approached a girl there.
“I know… You introduced yourself the other night... I’m Andreya…”
“What, really?” I was caught completely off guard.
“Yeah, you don’t remember…?”
“Wait, were you sitting over there?” I pointed off towards the table I had pulled up the chair a week prior.
“Yeah, I was sitting with my friends.”
“Jesus…” I mumbled to myself, holding my head in my hands
Just then Scott sat down next to me to my left. He was an odd-looking late forties kind of man-child with a Pinocchio nose and a bowl cut. He might’ve still lived with his parents. I kept talking to Andreya while she played with her hair endlessly and became ever more focused on me.



“Someone needs to buy me a shot!” she exclaimed in an energetic, slightly raspy voice.
“Do you like tequila?”
“I like everything!” She yelled again.
I waved the bartender, Chris, over to us. “Do you still have any of that Mezcal left?” He ran off to get the bottle and brought us two cups. “They call this the panty dropper” he said coyly as he poured the shots. Mezcal is a kind of smoky tequila that smells like nectar but tastes like gasoline. We drank down the shots and chased them with our PBR.
Andreya kept looking at me and playing with her hair. I looked up and down her body. She was extremely short and thin, couldn’t be more than four and a half feet tall. Her ass and breasts were not big, but in just the right proportions to fit her tiny body.  She kept lightly kicking her foot into mine. Foolishly, I thought nothing of it.
“Oh, my friends are over there, I’m going to go say hi. Watch my drink!” She slid her PBR over towards me and ran off like a puppy.
Scott turned toward me, “Is she your girlfriend?” he lisped with a bright smile.
“No, I just met her,” Whenever I’m in public with an attractive girl people seem to think we’re a couple, but that’s never the been the case. For the past few years I’ve craved a female companion, all while knowing deep down that I shouldn’t subject anyone to that.
Andreya came back and sat next to me again. We talked for a few minutes while she nervously looked around the bar.
“I’m going across the street to The Crown,” as she put her coat on and pulled out a cigarette.
“Can I follow you?”
“You do whatever you want.”
I left a generous tip and followed her across the street. She stood outside smoking. I knew she wasn’t going to come inside. I ordered a cheap beer and drank down it quickly, feeling like an idiot. I went outside and sure enough she wasn’t there. I walked 3 miles home thinking I’d bored the poor girl to death and that I’d surely never talk to her again.

A few days later I left work on New Year’s Eve with a feeling that I had to be at Duso’s for some reason. I showed up around 9 PM and there were only about 10 people there; the night was just getting started. Scott was there, I sat down next to him in the same seat where I had last sat next to Andreya. We talked about mundane things while I drank 4 or 5 PBRs in the space of about an hour. He told me he planned to spend the entire night there and badgered me about why I hadn’t gotten “that girl’s” number. The bar was getting crowded. I was glad to have claimed my seat early.

Shortly thereafter Andreya walked in wearing a dress that was wholly unfit for the cold Michigan weather. She walked up to the bar about 15 feet away from me and greeted a few people who didn’t seem particularly interested in talking to her. She stood among them like a dwarf among giants and looked toward me. I returned strong eye contact, squinted imperceptibly and thought “I’d tear that tight little body of yours right in two.”
She put an unlit cigarette in her mouth and dragged on it while raising her chin slightly before walking outside. She was back within 30 seconds, and I doubted that she had even lit the cigarette. She sat alone at a large table near me, her legs crossed and her hands folded in her lap. She stared at me intently, expressionlessly.
“This girl is weird,” I mumbled to Scott. I could tell that even he was getting uncomfortable. He quickly paid his tab and left. I stretched my legs out and slouched back in my seat, displaying myself to her. I gracefully, almost seductively, swilled my PBRs down, drinking every drop as if it were the nectar of the Gods, only glancing at her occasionally. She must’ve sat there for 20 minutes, not once taking her eyes off me. Eventually she stormed out of the bar; evidently, she wasn’t used to not getting what she wanted. I paid my tab and walked up and down Midland street, I went into every bar to see if I could find her. She was gone.
 I went back to Duso’s feeling like hot shit. I got a beer and sat at a table across from two unattractive girls. I creepily glanced at them, evidently Chris noticed. He jumped on the table on all fours, staring directly into their eyes without saying a word as though he were caricature of me. He got up and shook his head at me. I knew I was fucked. Andreya had done something to me, left something unrequited; sexy girls always made my head explode. I knew he was going to tell her that I was acting like a creep. It was going to take a bold move to salvage this game.

She leaned her back against the bar and looked at me. She looked like a harlot; she absolutely glowed with sexuality. She looked better than I’d ever seen her before, as if she were showing me a side of herself that was normally kept under lock and key. Every inch and every curve of her seemed to be in the just the right place; a perfect composition. Her jet-black hair flowed down past her shoulders and gave way to her black jacket and pants. When she spoke she did so very carefully, quietly, sensually. We stared at each other for what seemed like an eternity, fucking in our minds. Her eyes pierced me and neurons fired; it felt like I was tripping. I felt energy coming from her, it was purple, it was teal. She seemed to call out to me without speaking… “Eddie…”