one drink, two drink, drunk drink...wait....

There are many, many wonderful watering holes in the north. However, the volume of pubs, cafes, restaurants, and bars can be slightly overwhelming. Thankfully it didn't take long for me to establish a 'local'.

My local, for the time being, is a little known pub on Bell Street. Okay, a well known pub in Bell Street. It has a great beer garden, terrifically tasty parmas and friendly staff. However, it was the friendly staff part of the equation that recently caused me some hesitation about re-visiting said local.

After a particularly long Saturday session (completely with lightening show), I became quite taken with a particular bartender. I found him to be very cute and nice - having chatted to me each time I'd ordered some drink or other (I started buying drinks for people at my table, regardless of whether they actually wanted one). So by the night's end, my sister and friends were eagerly encouraging me to slip him my phone number. Now, had I stopped drinking earlier, I would have laughed along, cried 'oh yeah right' and realised his niceness toward me was the usual bartender banter and read nothing more into it. Unfortunately, I was pissed.

So out came a piece of paper and a pen and I wrote down my name and number (very retro). As we all headed toward the exit, we awkwardly stood around, waiting for me to make my move. Thankfully, my little group realised an audience was the last thing I needed and went to wait for me outside.

Even though I'd had a bit to drink, I still felt slightly nervous. And then completely chickened out. I walked out of the pub, head down, feeling ashamed and little disappointed with myself. So I made my friends wait in the now drizzling rain while I gave in another go.

I went back inside, headed for the bathroom where I have myself a talking to in the mirror and walked back into the pub. Just as I was closing the door behind me, my cute bartender was heading toward me. So with all the confidence I could muster, I murmured that if he ever wanted to grab a drink, to give me a call, handed over the slip of paper and made a mad dash for the exit.

I joined the waiting throng, excited to tell them that I had done it! I couldn't stop smiling at my efforts. One small step for girls, one giant leap for drunk girls.

Watch this space to see if he calls....well, obviously he's not going to because why would you call some crazy girl you don't know who walks up to you and gives you her number...or he has a girlfriend...