Peanut Butter Whiskey, On The Rocks
I’m a jokester, a fraud. I’m not sure I have ever shared my true feelings. I allow them to peek out with a sarcastic tone.
Do I truly love her, do I truly need her, what do I think of her. I don’t even know if I love her or if I love the fantasy in my head. Have I ever looked at her clearly.
My reality is different, I’m charming in my head, I trip over my words when I speak. I can make her smile and laugh, but I can I make her smile at me
I met her at a bar, as I sat their for a drink. A shot of peanut butter whiskey over ice give me relief.
She smelled it from my left shoulder and asked what it was, called screw ball I think. I think but I know did saying it make me seem cool
She wanted to try it, so I got her a shot, it’s a little sweet, but it’s good, let it chill over rocks
We chatted for a while, but I can’t spend all my time at a bar. We go to leave, I enjoy her company and would like it again
Her number, instagram, maybe a friend request I ask for none and let her walk in the wind
I’m a man, but I’m frail, and failure again just seems to be the end, I wonder if I will see her again
Next weekend, same bar, same seat, same shot, same girl comes, sits down and asks for it on the rocks
I’m nervous, I’m cool, I’m not, I’m a fool. She gets it on the rocks and I raise my glass for a toast.
A clink of the glass, sip of the whiskey, I start up the conversation, jokingly, “Did you miss me”
A joke, but a answer I want, even if it’s a jokingly of course there’s some truth in that trope
No answer to the question just a slight chuckle, she said it was fun talking to me last time and glad she introduced to her new drink. Screwball on the rocks.
I pointed at the seat and she sat and we chat, it felt like a fantasy that once again I have chance at failure.
But a chance at failure is a chance at success, but she came here to meet her friends, but their not here yet, say less
Please say less, end the sentence right there, hopefully they don’t come, but she told me their near
Hear bell singing from the bar door, yep there they are. She didn’t have to tell me I know my luck. I looked over to her.
One more on the rocks, she smiled grabbed my shoulder, now I’m feeling cocky. And said sure
She took it, said thank you and went to walk over to her friends. I called to her she stopped, my brain stopped working.
Still to scared for a number, so maybe a friend request. She said she doesn’t have social media, a lie to make me not feel so much regret.
Here take my number, she said, and call me and we can some peanutbutter whiskey on the rocks of course.
Where do the women get it to be so confident. Not like I never gotten a woman number before, but definitely more no’s than yes.
More fake than real and then I stopped asking and it became less no’s more regrets.
But she’s fun, she’s the best, now I’m smiling like a idiot, and the bar tender is dancing to some kanye west.
I’m glad people are paying more attention to her than me, because right now I’m the epitome of embarrassing.
She looks at me and gives me a nod, I raise my glass and give her a smirk, next time it won’t be her meeting her friends
It will be her meeting for a little conversation and some peanut butter whiskey. On the rocks.
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