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Angel takes MC to some performance art that is really fucking weird. MC has random and slightly neurotic thoughts like: The crowd was mostly women, and mostly white, and a majority were wearing glasses. Cool glasses. Nascent hipster? What was this? Was Angel cruising another girl on our date?

Maybe I should just leave, I thought. MC spends the whole date having to pee very badly and thinking that the performance is weird. If this kinda thing was what Angel was into, then maybe we were not meant to be. Same concept. Is this supposed to be sexy or a player move or what? Does she think she's going to be using these later? Isn't that a bit presumptuous? Insecure, flighty, judgmental worrywarts. I couldn't really get into Bridget Jones's Diary and I couldn't really get into this.

I didn't like the MC or her date very much.

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Since I can't get excited about sex scenes if there are no males involved, this was a loser for me. The story has a happy ending, but I was upset with Jill. For one thing, waitresses are paid to be nice to you. Taking advantage of that fact makes you a creeper. Secondly, going to Irene's place of work all the time and hitting on her is sexual harassment as far as I'm concerned.

I've always wanted to fall in love, but I never really believed it would happen to someone like me. Quite frankly, I've never had the time or the desire to date someone for long.

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The inane chitchat you have to go through in order to get to the sex bores me. Don't get me wrong. I don't take women for granted or treat them as sex objects; believe me, they're quite satisfied by the time I'm through with them. Can you hear my eyes rolling? I'm just not that interested in sharing my life, or my living space, with one particular person.

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Opening paragraph and already I've had it with this narrator. Then she sees Irene slinging hash in a diner and starts her non-stop campaign to get her into bed Not that I'm happy with Irene, either. Instead, she pointed to the left-hand side of the menu. When I reached for the ketchup bottle, she grimaced and stormed to the patrons across from me to refill their cups. It makes the customers happy. I hate when people tell you to smile. Then Jill finds out where and when Irene goes to college and shows up at the diner every Friday night an hour before Irene gets off work.

Like a fucking creeper. Now, I'm usually fairly patient when I want something, and I wanted her badly. But after weeks of being spurned, I was frustrated. Perhaps I needed to shift tactics. She's made it pretty clear she's not interested in you, asshole. This time I waited out in the cold until I saw her exit the front door and the manager lock up behind her. She was juggling a book bag, her purse, and a large brown paper grocery sack.

I saw my opportunity and hastened to her side. Wow, what a creeper. Isn't there someone who works at the diner who walks the waitresses to their cars at 2 a. I was going to find out where she lived. Maybe she'd invite me up for a drink or a friendly cup of coffee. Now I was getting somewhere. A little more patience and soon I'd be removing her clothes.

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Ugh, creeper. Then, when they get to the apartment, Irene reveals that she view spoiler [ just got out of a four-year relationship.

Her apartment is empty because her ex took everything. I suddenly felt like a cad, pressuring her into letting me inside her apartment, ready to pounce at the slightest opportunity. That's because you are a cad. Then they have sex and Jill fucking sneaks out of bed after sex and avoids the diner for a few days.

What a piece of shit. It has an allegedly happy ending, but I was having none of it. Tl;dr — What a creep.

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Last Call by Karin Kallmaker I actually really liked this story about an alcoholic named Rikki who is in love with a bartender named Nebraska. They had a drunken one-night-stand six months ago, but Nebraska refused to see Rikki again because she doesn't date drunks her ex was a drunk. This story is sweet and well-written. It's very retro noir-ish, the opening paragraphs are: Nobody knows why she goes by Nebraska. If asked, she laughs and admits the closest she ever got to Nebraska is Iowa. Nobody at the Shady Times Bar knows - except me.

I tipped my club soda at her and a few moments later caught the filled glass as she slid it down the bar toward me. A noisy group jostled through the big swinging front door and made a beeline for the round table on the far end of the dance floor. It was early and the jukebox was still set for Elvis. I was lonesome tonight, but that was the status quo. See what I mean? I happen to enjoy this style.

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  • I also enjoyed the writing in here: Her hands caressed the necks of tequila, rum, gin, and vodka bottles, deftly tossing them hand to hand. Glass flashed in the light, sparkling like miniature rainbows. Blue, green, and red prisms refracted in the mirror, spilling colors over her white-blond hair. Peach juice splashed color into the mix, followed by deft squirts of cola from the tap. I never could take my eyes off her, and tonight was no different.

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    I watched her fingers nimbly twist lime slices and remembered that night, six months ago, when those fingers had been as deft with parts of my body, leaving me as filled — and as mixed up — as the contents of the shakers she lined up across the bar. I also really like seeing Rikki struggle with her alcoholism and the idea that she's not just giving it up temporarily for a girlfriend but instead going sober for good.

    How could she know if I was there to watch her or to yearn after the booze when I still wasn't sure myself? It's so complicated and realistic. I was still a drunk every moment I sat on that barstool, regardless of what was in my hand. Some nights I lusted after the alcohol almost as much as her. I wanted to stay, and win her affection. I had to leave to maybe earn her respect. Either way, I lost her.

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    Choices like that only make the booze all the more attractive. I thought this story was top-notch. It wasn't the booze, it was me that was a coward. I'd never reached for anything I wanted but the next drink. It has a happy ending.