He took off his coat and flexed his arm like a peacock fluffs its tail. He watched me order a panzanella salad. He listened as I politely conversed with the bartender about the weather and architecture of the city.
The building across the street is covered in glass windows and stands as a multi level parking garage. Surprisingly, despite its fine and intricate architectural design the place has always served as a parking garage. Now for well over 35 years.
I notice the drunk old lady at the end of the bar neglect her foreign date for a more Americanized lad. When the bartender struck up a conversation with the lad about a fancy new restaurant on the waterfront, the lady made it a point to state how much she loved the new place and their wine. Oblivious to the fact that the current bar we are sitting in is more wine-minded than the fancy new bar. And this is an irish bar. All she wanted was her drinks paid for, all she got was a polite nod from the bartender.
I can tell the peacock guy is an asshole. The kind of asshole that orders a rum and come just because he wants a lime. The kind of asshole that talks about his vacation with Sammy Sosa and offers me trip to meet the governor of my own state. The asshole that is well educated, connected, and seeks a woman much younger than him to bear him the children he didn’t want to commit to throughout his younger glory days. But I know that men who seek a younger woman do not go after her youth, but their own, and I am disposable as soon as my own glory days are over.