How my luck works

I'm a little tipsy at the moment, so try to ignore any small errors in this post. I just got back from a little place on State street in Madison. I went for the faux Irish pub here. Good beer and some nice looking gals. Smithwick's is a nice beer that they are just starting to import into this area. It's made by the makers of Guinness, but isn't as heavy or thick. Anyway, I was in a silly mood and didn't give a damn what anyone thought of me there.

I elbowed up to the bar and started to talk with a few people nearby. Normally I don't feel the need to chat up strangers, but I was in that mode. Liz and Samantha were to my left, and I must've amused them. Liz wasn't the sharpest crayon in the box, but most guys would've gone after her. She did have a nice amount of exposed cleavage. Samantha was a bit more plain, but she was smart and had a gorgeous smile. Definate DSL, too.

Two rounds of drinks later, Liz gets hit on by a couple of guys and starts chatting with them, and Samantha and I get to some serious flirting. I usually don't find gals I want to flirt with, so this is the first time in a year or so that I'm feeling frisky and in the perfect mood for flirting with an interesting gal. She mentions that she has a sore neck, and I have nice and soft hands. After massaging her neck a bit, she gets a little closer, and I get a nice view as she was wearing a very thin bra. The bar has gotten warmer as it filled up more, yet her nipples are poking out quite noticibly. I try not to look too obviously, but I have to tease her a bit for them.

I deserved getting a little smack in the shoulder, and I tell her that she shouldn't hit my bear. I have a tattoo of a bear's face on that side, and I show it to her. We keep getting closer to each other, and she makes a fairly bold move for most gals I know. She sets her hand on my leg and starts to knead my thigh. Her hand moves higher up my thigh slowly, but it's fairly clear where she's heading. Then she asks "The Question".

"So, where do you live?"

"I'm staying at the Hampton Inn while in Madison, but I live in Milwaukee."

"Oh,"

Her hand stops at this moment, and soon afterward she gets up to go to the bathroom. Her reaction to what I said screams "Wrong answer!" She comes back with Liz in tow and says she has to go. No digits given, and a bare minimum of explaination. Crap.

I can't get mad at her. I mean, everyone has preferences and choices, and you can't force people's minds. Life happens as it happens. Demon Murphy rules over my luck, however. It was quite odd that something as insignificant to me as where I live would derail a night of great sex that was showing it's promise on the horizon. I can't even get down on myself for anything I did. It's just pure, dumb, bad luck.

So I'm left with the memories of her smile and other lovely parts, the scent of her perfume, a half dozen or more unused condoms, and an erection that won't let me sleep. I better take care of it, get some tylenol and water in me, and go to sleep so I can function tomorrow.

Sighs.