It Goes Both Ways
01 October 2009 at 4:07 pm

At the bar last week, the evening began with three new regulars reminding me that, before I left for Europe, they felt that they had had a moment with me because I had shared some personal information with them. This is entirely possible. I share personal information with a lot of people. I mean...hi.

I have no idea what I might have told them, because, as I told them, I'm a bartender, and part of my job is to talk to people, and sometimes, all I feel like talking about is myself. Maybe I told them about Spain, or Costa Rica, or Aaron, or boarding school, or the boy. Maybe I told them how I gave away my virginity, or how I lost my innocence. I have no idea, and I didn't ask, but when they intimated our newfound great friendship now that I've shared intimate information of mine, I stopped them. The only thing worse than making a new friend is talking about the new friendship. "Let's let the relationship progress organically," I said, stealing a line from Mr. Regrettable One-Night-Stand.


One time, several years ago, I took LASam out to drinks at Aaron's restaurant for her to mourn, and for me to celebrate, her on-again/off-again relationship moving into off-again territory.

"What would you like to drink?" the bartender asked.

"We need something appropriate for a break-up," I said. (I used to order drinks by describing my mood. If the bartender is up for it, this is an awesome way to drink.) She brought us champagne cocktails.

For the next few hours, in between helping customers, she told us the worst breakup she'd ever experienced. It involved an around-the-world trip cut short after falling head over heels for this guy at home, only to return home months before her scheduled return and find the guy not only dating another girl, but wondering what in the hell she was doing there.

Your bank teller doesn't tell you about her latest date, does she? Do you know where the In-n-Out drive thru girl went to high school? Does the receptionist at your company's PR firm trust you with the intimate details of her workout class?

Maybe you don't have to be transparent to be a bartender, but I do.


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About me
Hi. Morgan, 27, of Santa Barbara, CA. I am a hypocritical admirer of rhetoric (when it is my own) and an observer of literary trends. A secret: I don't take anything very seriously, and that includes myself.