Alone at the Bar

Mariah was sitting at the Blackbird Bar, twirling her Merlot in the glass as the sole evidence of her building frustration. Her date was twenty minutes late. She checked her phone again; there were no missed calls or text messages, no hints as to his whereabouts, no apology or excuse. She sipped her wine and reached for the remainder of the roasted nuts she’d ordered. The flavor was as salty as her mood, tempered only by the rich fruity flavors of her wine selection, which matched her plum, velvet dress with its sensual undertones.

This date wasn’t something she wanted. Her friends had encouraged her to go, if not forced her to accept his offer. Honestly, she was tired of tempering the range of personalities she seemed to attract. More often than not her suitors were overly assertive if not aggressive, pushy to the point of being acidic, or downright under-developed. She’d been paired with the lofty intellectuals, the complex tours de force, the high society obsessed, and the bitter former athletes of the world who had loads of energy without a sufficient outlet. They all looked at her as the simple, curvy, luscious complement to their abrasive natures, which took deep understanding to stomach.

In many ways, she was expected to be the grounding force for their hot air, or the bit of sugar needed to temper their sour attitudes. She was the soft yet respectable counterpart, or the better half of their blended personalities; but really, the entire situation was exhausting. Mariah was always apologizing, making excuses, walking on eggshells, or forced to exhibit the patience of a saint. Yes, she’d balanced them all out, but only to the detriment of herself.

The truth is, very few people ever appreciated Mariah for who she was on her own. She was always someone who needed to be paired with someone else — someone stronger, smarter, or more sophisticated. All too often, her honey spiced hair was confused with being a dumb blond, and her ample bosom and curves were regarded more as eye candy than a feminine strength. Moreover, her lack of lofty educational experiences often resulted in her being described as “common.” It didn’t matter that she balanced out the men who came in and out of her life. Somehow, she was always considered lesser, submissive, and unimportant - and that’s what hurt the most.

Of course, she was a nobody from nowhere. Her hometown was a landlocked village with nothing more than a church and deep soil rich with clay. It would rain all spring, only to be dry in the summer; but the cold and damp seemed to cause a grey rot within the community, with very few people ever reaching their full potential, if they even tried. New ideas seldom made it to their isolated cloisters, and cross-pollination was rare. In fact, life in the village had remained the same for ages, with few exceptions.

Yes, Mariah’s people were simple people with simple lives and simple goals; but that didn’t make them stupid. Actually, they possessed knowledge that few people had anymore — agricultural knowledge. Yet that wasn’t sophisticated enough for the outside world or the city folk, and their lifestyle seemed to be approaching a predetermined expiration date. That’s why she had left to begin with: it seemed to be the only way to survive an ever-changing world that insisted that a quiet way of life, and things done well, were both antiquated and soon-to-be-extinct.

When she had first started dating out in the “real world,” those qualities seemed to be endearing to her prospects, as long as she remained young and beautiful, that is. Back in that vibrant, bouncy state, men would often take her under their wing to teach her the ways of the world, if not to broaden her horizons. She’d endured lectures on a vast range of subjects, trying desperately to grasp what was really important and why. They all insisted that she had been wise to leave her hometown, that if she’d stayed close to her roots, eventually her beauty and liveliness would diminish. They insisted that timing was everything if she were to ever reach her full “psychological ripeness,” and that if she’d stayed put, her vibrant nature would eventually take on a moldy disposition. She had believed them…hook, line, and sinker. After all, these men were so much wiser, assertive, intellectual, and complex than she would ever be, or so she thought. All of those sentiments seemed to lose their luster once she started to decline in ripeness anyway.

Mariah motioned to the bartender, who answered her frustration by touching the bottom of her wine glass with the delicate splash of a heavy pour. She ordered some pâté and checked her phone again. Nothing. Not a peep. She took a long, angry drink from her glass. What was she waiting for anyway? Her friends had insisted that this man had the potential to be her perfect match; but no one had ever wondered if she even wanted to be matched. Why couldn’t she be appreciated on her own? Why did everyone seem to be of the opinion that she was somehow lacking without a counterpart? Yes, she was simple. And she certainly wasn’t one to initiate profoundly deep conversations, or shock someone with her aggressive opinions. No, she was balanced, stable, and sophisticated because of her simplicity. She didn’t have to hide behind words or appearances, even if her beauty was fading with age. Maybe she had bloomed too soon, only to lose the longevity of her virtues; but there was wisdom that came with that, even if it was often discarded as unimportant.

Unlike the talking heads which all-too-often surrounded her, Mariah was quiet, but there was a certain strength to that as well. As she began to nibble on her order of pâté with toasted baguette slices, she thought to herself that she had nothing to be ashamed of in her upbringing or her roots. There was a certain mystery to how she had been influenced by every person she had ever known, and every landscape she had ever touched. She felt enriched by the soil upon which she had been raised, connected to the rocks she had played with as a child, and nourished by the simple connections between family and friends. She even felt encouraged by the rain, which had bathed her with innocence. If she had been raised anywhere else, she would have been a different person. Had she experienced life in any other way, she would not be who she was today. And while she may not be some high society totem, she was still beautiful, exactly the way that she was, because of the experiences that had coursed through her life, from the land and climate to the changes of weather and ideas.

It had taken most of her life to understand that, and to find stability in the ever-changing flow of life. And while some might call her “thin-skinned,” even after all that she already endured, Mariah now saw beauty even in that. For to be “thin-skinned” meant that one was vulnerable, and to continuously expose one’s vulnerability to criticism and harm takes profound courage. And to constantly put herself into new situations and live in the moment, unsure of what was to come, required a strength that could only be achieved by first growing deep roots. That’s why she didn’t need a date, or anyone else for that matter. Mariah knew exactly how deep her true nature was, and she didn’t require outside validation to appreciate that aspect of herself, which had been hard-won over the years.

In truth, she was all of it: the dust of stars, the light of sun, the milky rays of the moon, the raindrops of the spring, and the warmth of the summer. She was the collection of every conversation, every tactile encounter, every ounce of strength required to stand tall in the face of every obstacle. No one was required to complete her because she was complete all on her own, even if certain individuals might call her “common.” Mariah knew she was anything but that. She was the cosmos and the soil, a bridge between Nature and humanity — and such a powerful force would not sit around waiting for a man who didn’t even have the decency to text.

She took a long, languid sip of her Merlot then motioned for the check. Mariah was done with being overly accommodating, as well as overly sweet. She realized that she was more than just sugar, but possessed a gentle bite as well. Right now, that structure — those boundaries — were necessary, and no one could enforce them but her. She handed over her card and finished her glass of wine.

There would always be other women who were different from her. There would always be someone more assertive or intellectual, exotic or complex. There may even be sweeter women out there, who would put up with even more than she could. None of that was relevant. All that mattered, right now, was her. The behavioral seal constraining her had finally been lifted, and she felt more alive and vibrant than ever. Life was meant to be simple and juicy, flavorful and rich. She didn’t believe you needed a PhD to enjoy it, or lofty words to hide behind. Life wasn’t about appearances. It was supposed to be about the journey, even if you didn’t understand why things happened as they did or where you were ultimately heading. It was meant to be enjoyed, especially if you were alone.

Mariah could hear a heavy panting approach. She turned to see her date, sweat beading along his brow. “I’m so sorry,” he gasped. “I lost my phone and I couldn’t find parking, but I’m here now.”

She looked at her watch. “You’re an hour late.”

“Sorry. I know that’s a long while to wait. Have you eaten?”

“Yes.”

“Can I get you a drink?”

“No, thank you.”

“Please. I promised you the perfect date and I’ve already screw it up.”

“But I did have a perfect date.”

“What?”

“I had a perfect date with myself, and now I’m heading home.”

“I’m really sorry. Give me another chance.”

She smiled, then gently touched his shoulder. “Goodnight.”

Mariah grabbed her purse then slid out of her chair. She walked past her date as he continued to plead with her, then headed towards the exit, feeling more and more seductive with each and every step. She was fully in her power now, as if she were a goddess molded from clay, finally walking the earth to her own rhythm. She looked up at the moon as she walked outside, smiled, then hailed a cab. It was the perfect date, she thought; a perfect date that brought her closer to herself, one opulent sip at a time.