Transient Transplant

It’s safe to say I’m outspoken and fairly vocal when it comes to issues that bother me or I feel are “unjust” in some way.  I have a fair amount of fire in me when it comes to fighting for fairness.

But after my recent bus stop encounters, I realized that I seem to be able to easily finagle my way into some kind of trouble by reacting to things that perhaps I should have just sported my resting bitch face with pride and let it lie.  I’ve caught myself wondering if I’m becoming less involved than I would have been six months ago when I was still new to Seattle.  Was the Seattle freeze rubbing off on me?  Was I now the one who was freezing people out?

I was out at Bathtub Gin, one of my personal favorite bars to spend a Saturday night.  I was having a wonderful time, minding my own business (ok, not really:  eavesdropping and people watching are two of my favorite past times).   I was drinking some sort of purple champagne with an edible flower at the bottom that, hand to God, is why I get the drink in the first place because it tastes exactly like a fruit roll up.  But I digress.

I was salivating thinking about making my way to the bottom of my drink for that booze soaked flower, but my moment of sheer bliss was hindered by the woman next to me speaking so loudly that the entire bar could hear her conversation.  By nature I am a loud person, so I tend to to sympathize with those who can’t seem to control the sound of their own voice, but this woman was beyond the scope of my sympathy.

She was belligerently drunk, slurring her words and waving her glass in the air to gesticulate, spilling it on the table from time to time.  I looked at the poor schmuck sitting across from her, who had not said a word the entire time.  That’s when she revealed how she was so excited that they had met in person after their online introduction.

This was a first date I was witnessing.  Not only that, but quite possibly one of the worst first dates in the history of time.  I ordered another fruit roll up champagne and sat back to watch it all unravel.

“I belong to a forum of women who talk about sex, you know, how much is enough, and maybe this is too personal for a first date, but how much sex a week do you like?  Is this too personal?”

The man was saved from answering questions about his sex life to a complete stranger by her waving her free hand around so flamboyantly that she knocked his drink over and spilled it all over his pants.

“I hope you are feeling refreshed down there!” she yelled and then proceeded to laugh like a hyena, no apology for leaving him with pants that looked like he pissed himself.  I was absolutely appalled, but my second drink had just arrived so I wasn’t planning on leaving any time soon.  This was too good to ignore.

Then she started talking about her friend who she described as “a muse.”  She didn’t understand why men are so obsessed with her friend.  That’s when the guy got a chance to actually get a word in edgewise and ask what she thought made this friend of hers so attractive to men.  I thought he must be wondering how he got stuck with the sloppy drunk girl rather than her muse friend.

“I mean, I don’t want to date her, so I can’t tell you what attracts men to her,” she responded defensively, as if she was wondering why he was asking questions about another woman while they were on their first date.

When the waitress came up and asked them if they wanted more drinks, she loudly yelled, “More water! Please and thank you!” and then started giggling to herself.  I wondered if she realized she needed water before or after she spilled an entire drink on her date’s crotch.

Then she loudly announced that she had to use the bathroom and ran off.  I watched the guy look down at his phone, and I thought for a millisecond to reach out to him and acknowledge that this was the worst date I’d ever witnessed and offer to be his “emergency phone call” when I left in 15 minutes so he could bail on her.

But that seemed too complicated.  I would have given away my status as an eavesdropping creeper as well as lose my entertainment at the bar.  I decided to keep to myself.  He was a grown man after all.  He should be able to take care of himself.

She returned fifteen minutes later and started talking about how brave she was to do online dating and how she deserved more respect.  “After all,” she stated, “I am at my sensual peak…and so here we are…”

She must not have realized that she had lost all of her remaining allure to him after she clearly had annihilated the one stall bathroom making room for dessert.  

I laughed out loud, paid my bill, and moseyed back out of the dark alley towards civilization.  Was my apathy making me a contributor to the Seattle Freeze?  Should I have helped him?

I figured it wasn’t my place, plus I wasn’t technically freezing someone out.  It wasn’t my job to help this guy out of a blind date.   I am still outspoken, but maybe I’m learning to distinguish when to get involved in other people’s lives and when I can sit back and just watch them crash and burn for my own amusement.