Faythe’s View

I was on vacation for Christmas in London with my best friend, Jocelyn. We were there watching my brother's dog, in exchange for a place to stay for the holidays. On December 21, our second night in London, Joce and I decided to go to a pub she had saved on her phone. We put on our jeans, t-shirts, and boots for the occasion (that, being a casual pub). We made our way to what ended up being a bar that was no longer open, holiday hours limited many of our choices. On our walk back to the tube station, we saw an open pub, so we gave it a try. Upon ordering our drinks, we were informed that it was the last call and that the bar would be closing in a matter of minutes. We toyed with the idea of going back home, but we ultimately decided to find somewhere else as we were already out.

After a few minutes of ruling out every bar in the area, I was reminded of a bar that my stepmom, Sandy, had visited a few months prior, and loved. I knew the name, Dirty Martini. To my surprise, when I googled the bar, I was met with a long list, all having the same name. I went through the list trying to find the one I dropped Sandy off at. Then we saw it, “Dirty Martini Bishopsgate.” That was the one, and it was open for a few more hours. We found our bus and made our way to this new spot. 

We walked up, gave our IDs, and headed down the stairs into the bar. We checked our coats and bags, then scoped out the venue. I was pretty lively for the Thursday before Christmas. After a few minutes of bopping around, we decided to brave the busy bar for our drinks. We stood behind a crowd to the left, all trying to be the first to put in their orders. Then I noticed him, a man behind the right side of the bar. He wasn’t like the other bartenders; the others were in black logoed t-shirts, and he was leaning over in a suit and staring at me. Well, actually, he was waving me over to take our order. Joce went first as my order is not usual for a nightclub. Then it was my turn, “Can I get pineapple juice with a splash of cranberry juice?” He pulled back and stared at me, then leaned back again to try and get a better listen. This time, I jumped up on my toes and leaned as far as I could over to him. “Can I please get pineapple juice with a splash of cranberry juice?” He nodded and began to make our drinks. He slid them over and brought us the card machine. It only had Joces' drink, which was weird, but I figured he thought we were paying separately. After she paid, he took the machine away and placed it back on the counter. I held my phone up and pointed to it so I could pay. He shook his head no, and we both smiled. He walked out from behind the bar, not serving anyone else. 

Joce and I spent some time dancing with two older gay men, but to be honest, I was preocupied. Every time I looked across the room, I was met with a look back and a smile—every single time. Joce kept pointing it out, I kept asking if she was sure if he was staring at me, to which she replied “yes” every time. Later on in the night, one of our gay men ended up with a pair of reindeer glasses, which he gave to Joce, who gave them to me. I took them off my face and locked eyes with the man in the suit. I motioned for him to come over to me. He shook his head and gestured ‘no’ with his hands. I motioned again, adding a plea this time, and he obliged. I unfolded the glasses, getting ready to put them on him. He bent down in submission. I reached my hands out and poked him right in the eye with one of the arms of the glasses. 

Well, I ruined that. 

We both laughed, thank god. I tried again, and this time, I put the glasses on him the right way. He danced for a moment before taking the glasses off and handing them back to me. More time went by, and we both just kept looking over and smiling. Every time I spun my head, he was there to meet my eyes with his. The night was nearing an end, it was about one-thirty in the morning, and the dance floor was clearing up. The man made his way back behind the bar and was cleaning up. I heard one of my favorite songs start to play, “Valerie” by Amy Winehouse! I was dancing and signing my heart out. But then I looked across the room at the man behind the bar and began to sing it to him. We both sang and danced together, two strangers. In that moment, we felt like the only people in that room. I knew I needed to know him. 

The night came to an end, the music cut off, and the lights came on. Joce and I let every person cut in line for our coats and bags. The man was standing by the exit with a case of water, passing them out to drunk clientele (well, he was supposed to be passing them out, but he was a little busy looking at me while I looked at him). I told Joce, while we waited in line, that I was too scared to go up to him. What if I was wrong about what I thought was flirting. Maybe he gave me a free drink because juice is too much of a hassle for the little cost. Maybe he wasn’t staring at me. Maybe I made him uncomfortable, or maybe he felt bad for me. It was too scary. Jocelyn told me that if I didn’t go up to him, she would, which seemed equally as awful and embarrassing. I finally agreed that I would do it, but she needed to help me decide what to say. We grabbed our coats, and once we had locked in what I would say, I walked over to him.

“I’ve enjoyed staring at you tonight.” 

“Me too,” He laughed.

“Can I get your number or give you mine?’ He handed me his phone.“I have to warn you, it’s a plus one number.”

“Are you Canadian?”

“No, I am from America.” I passed his phone back. “What's your name?”

“Dan, and yours?”

“Faythe, nice to meet you.” 

“Nice to meet you, too.”

We gave each other a very awkward hug. “We might be back tomorrow,” I said as I let him go. As Joce and I made our way out the door and up the stairs, we heard everyone downstairs cheering for Dan. I ran up those stairs, giggling, counting down the minutes until I was back in that bar. Until I was back with him. Back with Dan.