I wasn’t the type of person that normally picked up random guys in bars. In fact, I normally didn’t even go to bars. However, I was celebrating. My divorce from the cheating rat-bastard was final, and I needed to drink heavily in order to drown the lingering feelings of failure. My friend Angie joined me, but bailed after an hour and two measly glasses of wine.
I abandoned the wine for tequila after she left, not planning on driving myself home. After a couple of shooters, the male bar patrons were starting to look pretty good. I hoped I would get laid tonight without too much effort. It had been a long time since I’d had sex—long before the rat-bastard had crawled out of our house and into the bed of that tramp.
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