Well, apparently I'm writing.
"Scotch on the rocks." I said while buried in my usual seat to the new bartender.
"Coming right up!" He answered in glee, showing it's his first week on the job. I could tell by his smirk that he wanted to be asked whether he was new but I had a depression to drown in scotch.
"So how is life treating you?" He asked, seemingly oblivious to aura of bleakness I projected.
"Terrific." I answered with a tone so sarcastic even a new bartender should understand. I remember thinking what a pathetic cliché this bartender is, then again, I was the one drinking scotch to drown the sorrow at a corner of a bar.
"I'm Rob. I'm the new bartender." He introduced himself, taking pride in his new title. I swirled the ice cubes in my glass, let out a deep breathe and looked at him.
"Look, Rob. Here's a tip for you. People who take the corner seat in a mostly empty bar and order scotch are there to drink quietly. I couldn't care less that it's your first week. I didn't know the name of the guy you are replacing and I'm not interested in yours either. If you want to chat go talk the blonde who keeps ordering vodka cranberry."
He just stared with his eyes wide open for a few seconds before saying "S-Sorry. I'll leave you alone."
"Finally some silence." I thought to myself before being interrupted by the obnoxious scent of vanilla, lavender and ethanol. I knew what was coming.
"Jesus Christ, Jack! Did you really have to scare the poor boy away?" Dan said with his usual judgmental filled tone.
"How are you still using this horrible perfume?" I asked in frustration, "Do you realize you smell like a combination between an old lady and a soap?"
"It beats smelling like a drunk bum. Besides, the ladies love it."
I took the final sip of the scotch, sensing the ever so judgmental gaze of Dan.
"Do you still drink this shit?" He asked, sounding like a concerned mother while giving me a disgusted look.
"It tastes of bergamot."
"For fuck's sake, Jack. You got to get over her already. It's been three years and you're still obsessed with her and her bergamot perfume. Do you really think that ping drinking bergamot black tea and picking up scotch is better in any way?"
Something in me snapped. I put down my glass and turned to Dan.
"Oh, fuck off, Dan. Can't I like bergamot without it being related to her? Did you consider the possibility that I just enjoy the flavor and aroma? Yes, she likes bergamot and revealed it's mesmerizing taste to me, that doesn't mean shit! I'm over her, Dan. I swear."
Dan looked at me and for the first time I didn't see pity in his eyes. He put a hand on my shoulder and sighed.
"I can't be around you, man. You aren't even trying to forget her. You just keep getting angry about that and letting it out on me, your sisters and even that poor bartender. I know how much you hate clichés but you're the only one who can help yourself. You need to stop this."
Dan faded out of my sight as I sipped the now melted ice cubes to get rid of the bitter taste in my throat.
"What a dick. What the fuck does he even understand?" I mumbled to myself with a tear in my eye.
"Kid, give me another berg-... Scotch on the rocks."
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