Updated: Nov 23, 2019
There’s a man sitting alone at the bar. Initially, I walk up to him and ask him if he needs a dancer or a therapist. He thought I was funny. Most men that are worth a shit enjoy my personality. Little did I know, he needed more than a therapist. He needed a confession.
I thought I heard him offer to buy me a drink. He didn’t, but embarrassed by my bold enthusiasm he agreed to it anyway. However, he quickly changed his mind and decided that he would get one dance from me instead of buying me a drink.
In the club, unless you disrespect me, it’s your world and I’m just living in it. Unfortunately, my world should have reflective tape on the stairs because his ass went tumbling down. He sprained his ankle and spilled what was left of his beer.
The manager checked on him; then the waitress. I sat and watched him look the waitress in the eye and tell her that the manager said he could have another one for free. This was a lie. It was in that moment that I was mortified, but I couldn’t step away because I wanted to understand this man.
**Why was he unable to take responsibility for his own actions?**
Let me tell you, some things you don’t want to understand. I got to know him very well during the 30 minute time frame that he was contemplating calling the ambulance for his ankle. This man was a veteran. Stationed around Las Vegas for awhile, he was always the one keeping the other guys out of trouble. He used to go to Tijuana with groups of these military guys too. He’s a manager at a medical center now and he can’t go to strip clubs where he lives because of the political nature of his job. He missed the dirty work though. He was once the man that kept people on life support in special centers away from the main hospitals for years when there’s no other options left but to die. His favorite line of work came before that; tending to your premature baby. He’s had a long line of drug addicted wives with children; all of which he’s been kind enough to adopt and take full custody of. He has grandchildren that he absolutely loves babysitting. His favorite thing to do is give them sugar and coffee because he thinks it’s so cute how they beg for it.
Maybe it’s anxiety or maybe it’s a gift. I can’t take what anyone says at face value anymore. I collect facts and put them together like it’s a jigsaw puzzle. Do you ever do that when you speak to people? It’s my favorite thing to do in the whole entire world.
I believe this man wants to feel like a good person. I believe this man has been wronged in his life. I believe that his coping skills are extremely well developed, but slightly warped in relation to mainstream society. This man wants to be seen, and I’m the person that sees him because I’ve seen everything.
Do you think that Jesus’s cross to bear was his virgin mother? I shed tears that night. He didn’t call the ambulance, and I’m assuming that he went straight back to Alabama.
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