Getting back at men named Tim

“You asked why I’ve been showing so much. We’re the only ones here so you’ve got time. Let me tell you a story.

It was late on a Friday night, maybe 10 or 11. I was meant to meet my girl Brittany and our friends for a drink here, back when it was first opened as ‘The Hanged Man’. We were supposed to catch up and celebrate our years together, and years to come. Instead traffic, weather, family crises and burnt phone batteries blew our night to high hell in a special kind of clusterfuck you don’t see every day. So of course, it was closing in on Saturday when I learnt the last of my troupe weren’t coming and that I could look back on the night as a soloist. I remember leaning over the bar to motion the beard behind the booze and pay my tab, when a crash behind me drew his attention. In the middle of the commotion of broken timber and glass was an even more broken looking young woman. My first assumption of course was that she was drunk and needed a cab, but on further thinking I realised she had only been in the bar for close to 10 minutes, and seemed sober when she walked in. Of course, she insisted as well to the bartender that she wasn’t drunk, and he can fuck right off for bothering her. I’m not sure what compelled me to get involved - it must have been a last ditch attempt to make something of the night beyond drinking alone – but I found myself picking up pieces of wood and woman and settling in to see if she was okay. She was quick to share that her husband had cheated on her and she found out halfway through a glass of ‘Jetbird’ (pointing to the somehow intact bottle amongst the wreckage) by text moments prior to the outburst.

Now everyone’s first instinct is to say ‘are you okay’ or ‘do you need a cab’ or ‘oh my god, I am so sorry!’ but ever the shit stirrer the perfect line to me was ‘reckon he’s with her now?’. I got the filthiest gaze I’ve ever seen, and the words ‘of course he’s fucking with her now!’. ‘think you could show me where she lives then?’ I said matching her gaze with as much mischief I could conjure. Her fury stopped behind her tongue and morphed into a laugh. We were on our way before the bartender could stop us and charge for the chairs. I didn’t pay my tab.

The next 20 odd minutes were a flurry of words planning half-baked and somehow overcooked revenge plans. Conveniently this other woman lived quite close, but we still had plenty of time to giggle and grind through options as severe as murder to as childish as TP’ing the apartment. We decided that murder of course wasn’t bad enough and we didn’t have any toilet paper, so we said fuck it, we’ll wing it and do whatever feels right at the time. While murder was out of the question, apparently property damage definitely wasn’t, since I was only one foot out of the car when the first rock went smashing through a second-floor window with pinpoint accuracy. She starts screaming at the hole in the glass, the other woman comes out screaming on the balcony, the husband follows trying to keep everything calm, I’m shouting about his teeny peeny dick and laughing my ass off. It’s a whole thing for the next 10 minutes, until we hear ‘I’m calling the cops’. ‘That’s fine’ my new friend says, and with a smirk she shouts, ‘how you like this Tim!?’ and kisses me. Hard. So now he’s angry, the cops are coming, and we’re just in the street smacking lips and no-look flipping them off from below. And we kept going too until we heard sirens, so then took off down the street laughing and tripping over each other the whole way until we felt like we were, you know, in the clear. I’m thinking, gee that was fun, now I should get her a cab, make sure she gets home okay, when she says ‘okay, lets get back to it’ and starts heading back in the general direction of the apartment.

I chased after her and five minutes later we’re in a 7-eleven buying sharpies, and five minutes after that we’re writing ‘teeny peeny’ on every wall, brick, pole and garbage can 20 feet from the other chick’s front door. Now I’ve had a great time, but finally we get a car and head back to her home so she can try to sleep some of this haze of anger and pettiness off. We get out, I walk her to the door, and as I’m saying ‘hay, you going to be okay?’ she puts her finger up to shush me so she can finish texting her soon-to-be ex-mother in law to ask Tim what ‘teeny peeny’ means. ‘Shit. I really needed this today’ she says as she grabs my phone from my hand and adds her number. I went to give her a hug but some miscommunication and the last of the adrenaline said ‘nah’ and we ended up kissing on her step. We talked about meeting up again the next week, at least so she could pay The Hanged Man back for the damage and thank me for keeping her company. I was happy to; apart from the kiss it seemed like a friendly check-in to me. But two days later I get a text: ‘Hey, I’ve left to see my parents. Thanks again ‘Teeny peeny’ – K.

So that's pretty much it. The next morning I’m telling selections from my adventure to my girl over breakfast, but she doesn’t believe me. I didn’t come back here for years after that. Got on, married Brit, had a good marriage and all that. But I’ve always thought of that night; my wild and weird sort-of first and only date with K. Been thinking about it more and more since Brit died. It was 14 years ago but when I remember the fun, I feel a little bit of the flare, the excitement and I am right back there again. That’s why I drink here. ‘The ‘Hanged Man’ may not be exactly the same as it was but it’s close enough. And I guess I’m holding out hope that, chance on my side she’ll have a bout of nostalgia and pop her head in here at the right time, and we can… I don’t know. I don’t know.”

“What do you think your chances are?”

“Not great. But the drink here is good and coming here is as good an idea as any”

“I’ll drink to that. Nutso story. Who knows, could get lucky and get your second date with K. Fates funny and all that. I reckon there’s plenty you could do if she walks back in here. But if you want an the advice of an old 'beard behind the booze', wanna know what I would do?”

“What’s that?”

“Pay your tab now. Those chairs weren’t cheap”