A Funny Thing Happened at the Tapas Bar

On Sunday afternoon, I decided to grab a book and head down to one of my favorite restaurants in town. The speciality is tapas, and tapas are very pouch friendly. They've got a great selection of small plates, and delicious sangria. I just found out recently that the restaurant also does a 1/2 off happy hour on Sundays so I have decided that this particular restaurant is going to be my new house of worship.

I headed down with a book of short stories a friend recently gave me, the plan being to have a couple of glasses of sangria and a couple of small bites while enjoying my book. I settled in at the bar, got my drink, opened my book, and started to read. The bartender was very funny, and in a great mood; he had just gotten married so he was all about sharing the love.

A few minutes later, a guy sat down next to me at the bar. I kept reading. He asked me what I was reading. I told him. We chatted a bit; I went back to my book. A few minutes later, he tapped me on the shoulder and asked me a question about something I can't recall. We chatted a bit; I went back to my book. This went on for about 20 minutes; he'd ask me a question, I'd answer, go back to my book.

Then, he excused himself to the restroom. As soon as he turned the corner, the funny, sharing the love bartender practically jumped across the bar and said, "What the hell is that book about??? My boy here is throwing his best stuff at you, and you keep waving him on and going back to that book!"

I looked up, startled, and said, "What the hell are you talking about?"

"This guy is trying everything short of serenading you," says the bartender. "And you keep sticking your nose in that book! What the hell is it about?"

Turns out, the cute, funny, interesting architect/furniture designer/bartender sitting next to me had been hitting on me for about 30 minutes and I had absolutely no idea. None whatsoever. I was completely clueless. I've never been one to get a lot of attention sitting at a bar; I'm not trying to be maudlin or sympathy seeking. The reality of the world is what it is. So, when a lad sits next to me at a bar and asks me what I'm reading, my natural assumption is that he just wants to know what I'm reading. My head just doesn't go to the "Okay, he's totally hitting on me," assumption.

This is the toughest part of this process. I've worked really hard to change my body; I work out, I am ridiculously careful about what I eat, and I drink more water than a fish. Changing my mind and the way I think and feel about myself is infinitely, truly more difficult than any lap I've run, weight I've lifted or machine I've worked.

But, I'm going to keep reminding myself that it doesn't really matter how the rest of the world sees me. In truth, I guess it never really has. What matters is how I see myself.