Ugh. I still get mad thinking about it. Brad and his yoga instructor. It’s not a memory I enjoy revisiting, but this is how it went down. When we first started dating, Brad was the epitome of perfect. He doted on me, and called me beautiful.
Then, all of a sudden, he stopped with the complements and started taking more and more “emergency calls” for work, like he was an ER doctor and not a stockbroker at Merrill Lynch. I started getting suspicious after a few months but told myself I was being paranoid. After all, I gave him everything - both in and out of the bedroom - so there was no way he wasn’t satisfied, right?
But my suspicions got the best of me one night. When Brad took a shower, I checked his phone and found the texts.
A yoga instructor.
Some girl who thought just because she could do downward dog gave her the right to seduce my boyfriend.
And get this — when I confronted him about it, he blamed me! His exact words: “Well, maybe if you lost a little weight, I might not feel like sleeping with other women.”
Yeah . . . I know.
That was almost a year ago. Since then, I’ve had plenty of opportunities to tag along with Jax and see what the famous Pulaski Bar is all about. But I’ve been turning down his invitations to accompany him and Julia.
Maybe I don’t want people to think I’m one of those firemen groupies, especially given that my brother is one.
I definitely don’t have a thing for firemen.
But I do like men. And . . . well, it’s about damn time I get back out there. I’ve been working out and although I’ve by no means lost my curves, I’m feeling fit and sexy. At least, that’s what I tell myself.
I miss being desired. Touched. Having someone to cuddle with during these cold Chicago nights.
And if anyone deserves a night out of carefree drinking, dancing, and a little flirting, it’s me.
I’ve been busting my butt at work lately. I’m an attorney and new at my firm, and I’m still trying to leave my mark. My colleagues have been giving me a lot of busy work, and I keep trying to tell myself it’s because I’m new, and not because I’m a woman. But sometimes, even I’m not sure I believe it.
I push thoughts of work out of my mind and face the mirror. I’m determined not to think about work tonight. It’s about letting my hair down tonight and shaking my ass. Maybe even falling in love . . . Hey, it could happen! Just look at Julia and Jax. Why shouldn’t I find a hunky fireman of my own, to give me that kind of unadulterated bliss?
My top for the occasion is a deep purple, sleeveless, low-cut number. Maybe it’s too revealing, but I wouldn’t mind telling a few guys where my eyes are.
I do one final twirl, before calling for an Uber.
As I wait, I take one more shot of whiskey. I’ve been pre-gaming, and well — one more shot never hurt anyone, right?
By the time my Uber drops me off at the Pulaski, I’m feeling pretty good. Loose. Glowing. It feels like tonight, anything can happen.
I leave my Uber driver five stars, and walk up to the bar’s front door. Tom Petty’s “I Won’t Back Down” is playing inside. Even from the outside, I can tell it’s packed tonight. I take a deep breath and open the door.
I scan the room, expecting someone to notice me and strike a conversation.
Huh.
That’s weird.
Not a single head has turned. In fact, no one seems to be paying attention.
It’s like I’m invisible.
“Hey, Bethany — over here!”
Well, one person noticed me. My baby brother is waving from the bar. Yippee. He’s sitting next to Julia. Look at those two, leaning into each another, oblivious in their little bubble of marital bliss. At the moment, I’m having trouble feeling happy for them. The sting of a heartbreak hasn’t completely healed yet.
I make my way over to them. Surely, I’ll get some looks now that I’m strutting my stuff. No one looked when I first came in ’cause . . . uh . . . no one heard me. Yeah, that’s gotta be it. Now, heads are gonna turn . . .
Aaaaand . . .
Nothing.
