The Wanderer

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What was there to do, she pondered. Seven hours until I’m outta here. Not much to do, okay, not really anything to do, except sustenance. She did need to eat. Dying phone (plus no physical map either, fucking present), what’s a girl to do? Remember a previous time in this city, but of course.

It’d been a year, yeah, things change. She found it though, she fucking found it! Her yummy Mexican eatery. Overwhelming arrival? YES! Last year they had mentioned switching to a sports bar theme, but she didn’t know if that’d really go over. It totally did, like gangbusters, in fact.

She asked the hostess if she could get grub at the bar. After a yes, she made her way there. Fuck waiting on a table for one. Fuck that for sure.

What awaited her? A super “IMPORTANT” national sports event. Yeah, not her style. Looking back, it’d seem more calculated than it really was, but she scoped out the bar. She spotted “kindred” souls but it was a flock, a flock of dudes, not her style. She was more like a guy, go for the unencumbered one. Plus, he was hot.

A bit of chattering (not quite flirting, though), but it seemed there was a viable specimen. Cute and willing to chat. Don’t be too eager with food, her inner monologue instructed, that comes off poorly for women, stupid double standards.

Eventually, she got her grub on. More importantly, she was able to chat up the hot, single dude at the bar, conveniently seated directly to her right.

After a few brewskis, hours of a sport she just could not get into and some light flirting, she made a move and it fucking worked. SCORE!!!

They “hung” for a few hours. It was nice, it was sweet, it was sexy. She had no regrets. It was a nice time. That can be an anomaly in times like that.

“Pack my bags and mount my horse
I’m gonna ride on into the next town
Spend all my money on absolutely nothing
Need no man to pay for anything”-Imani Coppola-Legend Of A Cowgirl

“I roam from town to town
I go through life without a care”-Dion

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  1. Pingback: Life or…? | missemmamm

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