There Is Someone For Everyone Redux

The Best Of The Zola System

The brunette who just walked in the door turned several of the heads of the lonely men who were working the bar stools at the Loser Bar on 3rd Avenue.  Slim, with a small button nose and lovely dark eyes, you would assume she would turn the heads of many men in many different places in New York City.  She turned my head for a moment until I saw who it was.  Her name is Cindy and she appears to be certifiably insane.

“I’ve had the worst day.  My car was stolen with my purse in it, I had to have my boyfriend arrested so I don’t have a place to stay and my cat died this morning,” she told the barman after ordering her Kettle One and tonic.  He nodded empathetically and managed to get out a mumbled reply before walking to the other end of the bar with a grin on his face.  “This time she’s using the blanket approach to sob stories,” he stage whispered.

Cindy has been in before with her tales of woe.  Traditionally, she would tell a singular anecdote, the car and stolen purse were her favorites, and some poor bastard would buy her drinks all night long.  Eventually they would leave together.  One night back a year I was the guy doing just that, trying to figure out if she was on the grift or truly insane.  I opted for the latter after having a vision of her coming into my apartment and never leaving. After deciding discretion was the better part of valor I paid my check left her sitting at the bar.

Shortly after Cindy finished two sips of her of cocktail, the door opened again and in walked Schmuel, an Ultra Orthodox Jew of the Satmar Hasidic sect in Williamsburg.  He walked right over to Cindy and ordered a ‘kosher’ Budweiser.  “I just flew in from Jerusalem and I’m tired,” he smiled.  He used the same line every time he walked into the Loser Bar, no doubt missing the joke he was almost making.  The barman told me Schmuel haunted the 3rd Avenue bars looking for single women.  Apparently, he labored under the assumption that any woman who sat by herself in a bar at anytime of night was only looking to get laid.

Cindy warmed to the attention and gave him the cat story.  Shockingly, Schmuel not only sympathized with her but also discussed his own cat that had also thrown off the mortal coil just a few days earlier.  A horny Orthodox Jew who liked the King of Beers and a cat person, who knew?  In an odd twist of events, they left arm in arm five minutes later to hotel rooms unknown.

I guess my mother was right: there is someone for everyone.

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