Ten

I was in a local bar-Upstar Crow. It was Valentine's Day and I was drinking along with the rest of the single population. Cheers. I wore my favorite high heels; they were black like my hair and my outfit. I rebelled against heart's day with everything I had. I'd been dumped three times in the past two years. They'd mutter something about loving me, wait a few months to dig a hole, and then say, "You're a great woman, you'll find someone better." I was still waiting for "better" to come around.

I signaled the bartender for my next drink and he headed my way. I introduced myself by telling him my order.

Vodka martini.

Dirty.

Straight up.

Dry.

"I'm Brad," he said. "Alone tonight?"  

I rolled my eyes. "Looks that way," I said reaching for a handshake. "I'm Sadie."

"Sadie, you smoke?" Brad asked me. I shook my head as he lit up.

Two martinis later, the crowd thinned out and I was getting comfortable. Brad sat on the steel beer cooler behind the bar and refilled my glass. Thoughtful. His voice was deep but soft at the same time. He was attractive in a young way. He was tall and clean cut, with thin lips and white, straight teeth. He'd worked at Upstar for two years. I noticed customers-mainly women- requested him by name. Popular.He was conceited and flirtatious, but I figured it was all part of his job.

I left Upstar at closing time. The city was cold and nearly pitch black- only the Cincinnati lights sparkled. It was the one thing I'd fallen in love with and it would never leave me. I was alone-a normal instance for me. The actually feeling of being lonely, however mostly came around in the colder months. My teeth chattered and my heels clicked on the sidewalk. I lived three blocks east of Upstar, near a small Italian eatery. Someday, pasta takeout and martinis would reshape my petite frame. My roommate wasn't home; I guessed she was out with her boyfriend for the night. Sweet. Even the cat was gone.

I started going to Upstar Mondays and Wednesdays after class. He expected me and would leave a drink in my spot. Sometimes it was a gin Gibson, an imported beer, or a personal concoction he called a "Leg Spreader." Smooth.

"You love me," I told him.

"Well okay, but it's an obligation," he said. "You know, like how I have to love my cousin or my sister."

The first time I felt jealous over him was on a Wednesday night. There was one other person left in the bar, a blonde. It was 2:30 am, time to close. He walked her to the door. I searched my purse for something unknown pretending not to watch. They talked in soft voices and he kissed her. Whore. A few visits later, I was over it. I was falling for him. I didn't know if it was the idea of someone new, or if it was just his gray eyes and blond hair.

"You got a boyfriend?" he asked me on a Monday. I shook my head.

"Well everyone has someone that they're getting it from," he said. "So who is he?"

"I don't have anyone, really," I told him. I wondered who he had.

"How many dates does a guy have to take you on before you sleep with him?"

I laughed. "It all depends. I don't have a deadline," I said.

"It only takes ten hours to get a woman into bed," he said.

"What?" I was shocked. It took way more than ten hours to get me into bed. I'd dated men for months before giving it up. Then I realized: I was still single.

"Seriously, think about it. Ten actual dating hours; that's about three dates."

"It takes longer than that, for the average woman," I said.  "On that note, it's time for me to go home."

"Oh, come on. Do you want to come to my house and watch the basketball game tomorrow?" he asked.

I frowned. "What for?"

"You can meet my friends."

"Are they sexy?" I asked.

"I can't hang around unattractive people or everything would be ruined when I went out."

I shook my head. "I don't want to watch the game. Thanks though."

"I can't believe you don't want to meet my friends," he said.

"Don't be offended. I just highly doubt they really have something to offer me."

He sighed and lit a cigarette. "I need to find you a boyfriend. You're a lonely woman and men don't like you."

"What are you talking about? Men love me."

I was flattered he invited me somewhere outside the bar, but was turned off. I was over men; at least I thought. I didn't want to be his pity case. I wanted to date him, not his friends.

"You really are cute," he said. "I want to call you."

"Of course you do," I said. I wrote my number on a matchbook and paid my tab. During my walk home, he called.

"You going home?" he asked.

"Well isn't that what people do at 2 am?"

"Aw, okay then, go home," he said.

"Well, what did you call for?"

"I don't know. Maybe I just like flirting with you."

I was excited to have caught his attention, until I remembered who he was. The guy who thought it only took ten hours to get to the sex. I remembered the white-wine-drinking blonde.

"I'm not some whore, you know." I could count the men I'd slept with on one hand.

"Sadie, I think you're a beautiful woman. Would you like to come over sometime?"

"Are you going to cook dinner for me?" I asked.

"I don't cook," he said. "Okay I'm lying. I do. I will."

"I'll come for food, but nothing else."

"Call me tomorrow. Maybe we can meet up. I really do want you to come over."

I went to sleep happy. I hadn't had much male attention in awhile; it felt good not to be the one pursuing it, like I did so often. When I called him the next day, he invited me over.

I pulled up to his house. It was a two-story brick place; bigger than my childhood home. Money. He led me inside and through the archways, the foyer to the dining room, a study, a living room, a bar, and the kitchen. He lived alone. Stability. He told me he was a grad student, studying sports marketing. Brains. He had a black cat-his ex left it.

"She is a psycho bitch; my ex, not the cat.  You ever seen a video of your girlfriend having sex with your best friend?"

"I've never had a girlfriend," I said. He laughed and made his way to the bar and poured a gin and tonic for me.

"Sadie, I don't date," he said. "I don't have time for women. You guys are so needy."

I was crushed, but at the same time, thankful he'd told me his deal from the start. I couldn't blame him; he'd obviously been burned too. Unavailable. 

"I don't know why I even sort of like you. You're so mean," he said.

"I am not, I'm nice. You're the mean one."

"That isn't true. But anyway, we can hangout as much as you want I just don't date. Besides, I have a no customer policy."

"You only say that because you've never had a customer as sexy as me," I said.

He kissed me and it tasted like Red Stripe. Perfection. A professor told me a soul mate was someone unexpected; someone opposite of the trait-list I'd started at 16. My usual dates were dark-haired beatniks who wore punk t-shirts and drank coffee with poets. My usual dates were cheaters and liars. 

"I want you to come over again," he whispered.

I nodded. He was everything I'd said I didn't want and because of it, I'd never been with anyone like him. New. He was a frat alumni, he drove a truck, and tucked his shirts in. He listened to country and hated rock. This wasn't going to work, but I wanted more.

A few days later, he asked me to stop by his house again. "Maybe I'll let you have a little play later if you're nice," he'd said earlier. It was 3am and I was nervous. I wasn't ready. But I wound up at his door and the Jager bombs I downed were sloshing in my stomach. He opened the door, standing in his white boxers. Sexy.

"Who is it?" he asked.

"It's me," I laughed. "Why is your house so dark?"

"It's 3 am."

I tripped on my way in the door. He caught me, mid-fall, and carried me past the doorway. Strong.

"I'm taking you into the pitch black," he said in his usual voice I'd come to love in a matter of four weeks. We collapsed onto his couch and I kissed him.

"Well, hello there," he said. "You look so cute right now."

"Thanks," I sighed. I relaxed in the silence.

"Why do you like me?" he asked.

I didn't know what to say, I had been asking myself a similar question. The feelings were so new and I felt he could be different than the men of my past.

"What do you mean? Why wouldn't I like you?" I asked.

"I do a lot of things by myself," he said. "I'm a bit of a loner. I just don't see how a girl like you would be open to me."

I was drawn to his vulnerability. "I am a bit of a loner, too," I said.

I kissed him until he stopped me.

"Did you really come over here at 3am just to make out with me?"

I smiled. I didn't know what I was doing. Part of me said to go for it, sleep with him. The other part of me was scared he'd be done with me if I did.

"I do want it. I just wish I knew you a little more," I said.

"Well I didn't mean to be so presumptuous," he said. "I won't be mad at you."

But when I thought back to my previous relationships, I saw a trend. I'd waited as long as I could and they had still ended. I didn't have anything to lose either way.

"You know, I still haven't had my obligatory ten dating hours yet."

He smiled and pulled me on top of him. I was okay in the pitch black.