Your Views! | My Date Left Me and Went Home With the Bartender, So I Didn’t Get to See Them

When it occurred, I was on a blind date with a friend of a friend.

My date was escorted home by the bartender.

For supper, a number of my pals assembled. We headed to a renowned pub following supper. There was a lot of dancing and loud music. I am not a dancer.

My blind date was waiting for us at the bar. I wriggled free of his clutches as he attempted to drag me onto the dance floor.

I apologise for being such a dud of a date, but I lack rhythm. The prospect of dancing in public put me into a tailspin. I was alright with enjoying a few drinks and engaging in some light chat, but I desired to do it from atop a barstool.

My date joined me at the bar unwillingly. He rose to his feet, and I sat.

When the bartender approached to collect our drink orders, I sensed something was wrong. They were way too affable for a couple of strangers, even if one was working for tips.

They were, in fact, acquainted. How familiar were they? They were previously engaged. Indeed, their engagement had come to an end earlier that month.

What an awkward situation. To be honest, I was the only one who felt uncomfortable. My date and his ex-bartender fiancée were getting along swimmingly. Their discussion flowed effortlessly, much like the wine that was missing from my glass.

My date and his previous love, with the exception of the moment she interrupted in her talk to inform me that I was obese, generally ignored me. It was ineffective.

Blind Date

I took a seat alone in another area of the pub. Someone attempted to initiate conversation momentarily, but I was in no mood to speak. Sitting in the corner and stewing was more my style. I’d purchased a new clothing for this?

At the club’s close, my date and the bartender departed together, heading towards unknown destinations. He made no attempt to say good-bye.

I struck up a conversation with the friend who had introduced us in the first place and grabbed a ride home with him. I recall the chilly night air chilling my hot cheeks as we approached the parking lot. It felt fantastic following the agony of my shame.

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Whose date is ruined by the bartender? The solution, it appears, is me.

My companion did not appear startled or regretful about how the night ended. Occasionally, things are simply what they are.

I never saw my blind date or the lady who worked as his bartender again. They recently married, as far as I am aware. After that, they divorced. The entire procedure was completed in less than a year. As far as I’m concerned, I believe I escaped with my life.

Apart from the lingering sense of my momentary humiliation, I’m alright.

If their relationship had worked out, I might have been able to claim part of the credit for reuniting them.

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