My Attempt to Charm a Lady in the Pub – Marcello M Dating Blog

Marcello 4-1It was a Friday night and I was heading over to meet some friends in a bar in Holborn. On arrival, I was pleased to see lots of people from the hotel at which I used to work.

I looked around, the bar was full of off-duty Lithuanian waitresses. I turned to the sullen men accompanying me, wonderful, I thought, this was precisely the opposite of my desired situation.

We spoke for a while about the old days before Sergio bounded over. We weren’t friends but the Italian barman and I were always pleased to see one another.

He seized a blonde girl by the arm,

“This is Agnes,” he said.

“Hi Agnes.”

“Hello,” she said,“you know Serg?”

“Yes, I know Serg.”

Agnes had spiky hair and a slim waist, she also emitted a slightly musty odour.

The night wore on and I spoke to a great many young women. I bought several rounds of drinks, but received none in return. I then fell into conversation with Sylvie, a tall Hungarian hostess from my former workplace.

“So you have done well then?” she said.

“You could say that.”

I was on the very bottom rung of the management ladder.

“That’s great, I like ambition.”

“Me too,” I said, then thoughtfully added, “it’s good.”

Sylvie glanced across the room.

“Drink?” I said.

She nodded and I left for the bar. I laboured over which wine suited us before opting for mojitos. I removed and replaced the umbrellas several times before returning. At the cusp of the carpeted area, I spied Sylvie in deep conversation with Sergio. He clasped her arm as he gesticulated.

I tentatively approached the pair, it was ludicrous, Sergio and Sylvie – even their names sounded good together. He pushed back his dark hair and leaned in. We both had the same Mediterranean look however Sergio was younger, funnier and better looking.

He was essentially an improved version of me.

Meters away, Sylvie met my gaze – a sheen fell across her eyes, and I immediately knew where I stood. Looking both ways, I took a grand tour of the bar before retreating to the far corner, I gulped down one of the cocktails before returning.

I placed myself at the edge of my friend Demitry’s circle, patiently waiting for a way in. The language veered into Russian argo, nevertheless I dutifully laughed along.

Agnes approached.

“How are you?”

“I’m great, Agnes. How are you?”

Given that my options had diminished, I decided to bookend my response with a wink.

“You have problem with your eye?”

“Oh, for goodness sake, Agnes. It was a wink, a cheeky wink. I’m sure people wink in Lithuania.”

“Yes, they do,” she said, “but I am Polish.”

“Sorry.”

“Hey, I was joking.”

I drained my pointy cocktail glass.

“I know, so was I.”

A Lady Ga Ga song started pounding in the background.

“You like this music?” She said.

“Look,” I turned to face her, “let’s go back to the beginning, shall we?”

“Good idea.”

I put my arm round her shoulder, midnight was approaching and all was permissible. Besides, should matters deteriorate I could quite easily avoid this bar, and these people, forever.

Agnes smiled but her musty odour caused me to turn away. She slid her arm around my waist and asked:

“You are coming to the Den?”

It was a local nightclub.

“Sure.”

I could think of nothing worse.

“Come on then.”

On the way out Agnes said she needed the bathroom. I continued and waited across the road. Everyone was still inside which suited me perfectly. After ten minutes or so she reappeared – peering through the glass, I looked on as Sergio gripped her from behind. She turned and they fell into an embrace. They laughed then entered into some kind of urgent discourse.

“My god,” I said aloud, “the man’s insatiable.”

Still, I held my ground. It was conceivable that this was mere skylarking between colleagues, banter and nothing more. In an attempt to find a reason for my prolonged presence, I pulled out my iPhone and arbitrarily scrolled through some of its functions.

Agnes looked over and laughed, turning away she snaked both arms around Sergio’s shoulders.

Naturally, I feigned indifference.

I walked away slowly, pretending to be engrossed in the tiny screen.

“Good old iPhone” I thought, as I checked the train times, “you’ve never let me down”. 

About the author

Marcello M is our male dating blogger. Follow Marcello M @MarcelloMLondon

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