**This keeps getting deleted even though it clearly states I’m married. Please don’t delete!**
I see you.
Carefully orbiting the bar like a decent human, making sure you don’t take a seat that isn’t yours. Respectful. Rare.
You’re endearingly handsome - like normal life handsome. The kind that sneaks up on you. That blue flannel? Yeah… that’s working for you. And I’m a sucker for a backwards ball cap, so thank you for that. Really. It lets me fully appreciate the beard situation you’ve got going on.
Also… the pencil tucked into your hat? Sir. What are we doing here? That’s unnecessarily attractive.
My friend is mid-rant about something I’m sure is very important, but I’ve completely checked out. Because have you seen you?
Now you’re at the bar. Focused. Intentional. Respect.
You scan the bottles like it matters - like this isn’t just a drink, it’s a decision. You ask the bartender for a recommendation, and of course he tries to steer you toward Four Roses Small Batch bourbon. Safe. Predictable. A little lazy.
But you pause.
Because you know better… or at least you feel like you should.
And then I see it - the moment it clicks.
Old Grand-Dad 114 bourbon.
A little bold. Slightly underrated. Not trying too hard, but definitely not basic. Most places don’t even carry it… and yet, there you are, taking your time like you’ve been waiting for this exact moment.
The way you think it through - subtle, focused, a quick lick of your lips without even realizing it…
Yeah. Sensual. That’s the word.
I’ve never wanted to be a bottle of bourbon more in my life.
So I order the same thing.
Not obvious. Just…matching the vibe.
And you notice.
Not because I’m staring (I mean… I am, because *dayum*), but because I make some loud, completely unnecessary comment about how Freddie Freeman absolutely should’ve stretched that into a triple. Like what are we doing, Freddie?
You smirk.
We sit in that quiet, comfortable almost-stranger space - both pretending we’re just here for the drink. I make some throwaway joke about how you better enjoy that drink for what it costs, and then -
You wink.
Oof. That wink had no business being that effective.
You go to close your tab, and I figure that’s it. Cute little moment. Nothing more.
Because let’s be real - a married lady at a bar doesn’t get a second look. Right?
Wrong.
You lean just slightly into my space, like you’ve already decided something, and ask what I’d recommend for dinner around here. Casual. Easy.
I tell you the steak is solid. You nod, like you trust me already.
Then that look again. The one that says just enough without saying anything at all.
“You free?”
And for a split second, everything gets real quiet.
Not because anything’s going to happen…
…but because we both know it could.
And honestly? That’s kind of the best part.
😘
**If you made it this far… congratulations, you have an attention span and I’m already impressed.**
*Here’s the deal:*
I want someone who matches energy. Effort in, effort out. If I’m showing up, you are too. We’re not doing that one-sided nonsense.
You should be attractive - don’t worry, we’ll figure that out quickly. U.S.-based, because time zones are rude, and while I’m fine starting online, I do expect we’d eventually meet. I’m not collecting pen pals like Pokémon cards.
Be actually smart. Not “I listened to one podcast and now I’m enlightened” smart. I like real conversations, witty banter, and someone who doesn’t open with “hey” like a caveman discovering fire.
You need to be funny. I’m funny. This is a competition now.
Flirt with me. Be a little bold. Not creepy-bold… confident-bold. There’s a difference, and if you don’t know it, I will know immediately.
Tattoos? Yes.
Beard? Also yes.
Dad bod? Don’t threaten me with a good time.
I’m late 30s, so let’s keep it 35–55. And yes… married is kind of the whole plot twist here. **IM MARRIED**
As for me - I’m thicc (in a good way, relax), confident, and not here pretending to be low-maintenance. I like old school hip hop, binge-worthy shows, the gym (in cycles, don’t ask), plants I aggressively try to keep alive, sunshine, football, baseball, and a good bourbon or IPA. I’m 420 friendly, I can hang at a bar or disappear into my house for 48 hours and thrive.
I’m fun, I’m a little chaotic, I flirt for sport, and I will absolutely roast you if you deserve it.
If you’re still here, don’t fumble it.
Tell me what you’re drinking - or come up with something better than that. 😏