You're Not Getting Ass But You Want To Pay? OK!

Nothing can really make one feel better after a breakup. The days and weeks following such a traumatic event in ones life can seem pretty bleak. Can't stop crying. Can't eat. Everything you see reminds of you of your ex-significant other.

After about two weeks of sitting in my apartment, crying my eyes out, losing a good amount of weight from not eating, and reading an array of self-help books, I decided it was time for me to stop feeling so sorry about myself. This was HIS loss and MY gain. I was only one step closer to finding the person I am supposed to be with for the rest of my life. Riding the wave of sudden optimism, I showered, got somewhat presentable, and trotted my way down to one of my favorite restaurants on Newbury Street. Certainly, my favorite restaurant and favorite food would make me feel better, right? With my People Magazine in hand, I was looking forward to chilling at the bar and enjoying the company of myself.

Oops. That didn't last long. Did I look like a vulnerable target? Was I asking to get hit on? Certainly not. However, shortly after ordering a drink and one of my favorite comfort food lunches, two 45ish year old men sat next to me. Granted, it was 1PM on a Saturday, but this did not matter to them. They were already hammered. Talking amongst themselves, I overheard their plans of a "guys night". Finally, my lunch arrived, which apparently signaled the OK to start talking to me. I really didn't feel like talking to anyone, especially two unattractive, middle aged men; however, I played along and made small talk. In all of about 15 minutes, I learned where these men work, live, how many woman they are dating (double digits, people... may have been a lie), previous stints in rehab, their preference in clothing and jewelry, and other random facts. They offered to buy me a drink, which I respectfully declined. They then asked me to join them on their drinking tour of the city, which I respectfully declined again. This disappointed them. These men weren't going to have sex with me.

However, I was quite surprised when I requested my bill, and the men said to the bartender "I've got it. I'm paying her bill."

Wait! I rarely accept free drinks from anyone, but they want to pay for my drinks AND my food? Even after I've made it quite clear that they aren't having sex with me? Score! I politely thanked them and left. No exchange of phone numbers. No promise to see them again. They were graced with the presence of my company for twenty minutes. And for that, I earned a free meal.

*Ashley*