I Sold My Soul To The Devil To Cut A Bar Line

A few weeks ago, my alcohol consumption, combined with a need to have a good night, severely hindered my judgement. No, I didn’t hook up with an ex. Worse, I asked one for a favor.

My friend Christine and I were out at McFadden’s feeling especially old and grumpy among the I’m-18-and-used-my-older-sibling’s-ID crowd. I, against my better judgement, text messaged, Pete, the asshole who dissed my hair color and ruined my Christmas.

I asked him where he took me on our date, because I wanted to go to that area. He told me that he was actually heading over there, and that “it’d be nice to see [me]” if I wasn’t with a guy and decided to stop by. An hour later, Christine and I were across town away from the children, but now freezing our asses off on the longest line known to man.

“Hey, I’m here,” I texted Pete. “This line is huge.”

“Yeah, I just got here myself.”

I poked my head out of the line and saw him standing with the bouncer. Was this guy really going to get into the bar and not get me and Christine in?

“Jen, call him!” Christine yelled.

“No, I feel stupid. He knows I’m here and he didn’t offer.”

“JENNIFER ALYSSA _________ I SWEAR TO GOD IF YOU DON’T CALL HIM RIGHT NOW I WILL KILL YOU!”

Unable to even locate my phone book, Christine ripped my iPhone out of my ice-cold, drunken hands and found Pete’s name.

“Hey, I see you,” I said in a sing-song tone.

“Do you?” he asked, looking around for me.

“Yup. Get me into the bar, too!” I said in my cutesy voice.

“Ah, I wish I could,” he said in his holier-than-thou voice, bringing back all of my hatred for him in one quick second.

“You can,” I said, this time in a much colder voice.

“Okay, hang on.” I saw him talking to the bouncer for a few seconds, and then got back on the phone. “Okay, I can get you in…but not your friend.”

“Are you high?! I’m not leaving her. She’s pretty, he’ll let her in,” I said, grabbed her hand, and made my way to the front of the line toward Pete and the bouncer.

The bouncer took Christine’s wrist and stamped it, and I air-kissed Pete.

“You should really slip him five bucks for letting you guys cut the line,” Pete whispered in my ear.

I thought my blood couldn’t boil anymore but, alas, I was wrong. The same guy who raved to me about his $3000 bonus couldn’t even give the bouncer a freaking five-dollar bill on my behalf. Yeah, it was really nice seeing me.

“Thanks,” I said, even though I was annoyed at his lack-of-gentlemanness, first with being totally fine leaving me out in the cold for an hour, then asking me to leave my friend, and then finally telling me to pay the bouncer who he was supposedly friendly with. UGH.

The second we walked in, he said, “Don’t I get a hug?” Even though my skin crawled, I hugged him. Two seconds later, he was off with his friends, and I couldn’t be happier to see him go.

After all that, Christine and I lasted about five minutes in that crowded, ugly-people-filled bar and ended up where we belong, at a Dallas Barbeque.

That’s when Part II of my blood boiling occurred.

While eating my ribs, I received the following texts from Pete:

“Do you want to hang out with us? It’s just me my friend and his friends (who are girls). I could introduce you to guys if you want (even tho I’d be a lil jealous).”

“Lol we actually left. I’m on a mission to find a bar I like,” I replied. Then there were a few random texts about the bar and, finally, the part that annoyed me…

“Well. It was nice seeing you. Hopefully sometime we could hang out,” he said.

Rolling my eyes, I responded: “Well I’ll see you when u get your scarf.” (He left it in my car a couple months before and said he wanted to pick it up.)

“Yikes. Lol sounds like you really want nothing to do with me lol. Ttyl. Have fun tonight. And you’re welcome.”

“AND YOU’RE WELCOME?!” Is one “Thank You” not sufficient for someone who didn’t even want to do you a favor anyway and then pulled the cheapest move on earth?! AFTER dissing the girl’s values AND red hair and making her cry on Christmas?!

At that point, I was shaking and couldn’t answer his text even if I wanted to. I went with my mother’s “If you have nothing ncie to say, don’t say anything at all,” saying, and stayed silent. Serves me right for selling my soul to the devil and not only speaking to that fool, but asking him for a favor. UGH, I’m appalled at him but I’m disgusted with myself. Never ever EVER again!

One thought on “I Sold My Soul To The Devil To Cut A Bar Line

  1. I’m kinda lost in this post… I’m not sure what Pete was supposed to do in order to be an okay guy in your eyes on this given night.

    Is he supposed to offer to get you in? If so why? I mean you aren’t together and it doesn’t sound like you stayed friends or even all that friendly.

    Why should he tip the bouncer? Yes he talked about a bonus but that is his money not yours.

    Why all the hostility over him actually doing you the favor? He is not under some obligation to get you in let alone your friend.

    And once the favor was done was he supposed to bow and scrape as he begged forgiveness for offending your eyes with his presence? A hug and he was gone… it’s not like he made any demands on you ( he could have asked for a favor in return, a drink on you, or made demands on your time in the bar). He even sounded pretty nice about wanting to hang out and took an obvious dig about the scarf in stride.

    Maybe it is just me but it sounds like his past sins are coloring things and regardless of what he did in this situation you would have found some fault in his actions. Was there really a way he could have done you this favor and not been the devil in your eyes? It’s always a deal with the devil when you feel damned before the first word is spoken, the question is whether or not the demon is clawing you from the outside or within.

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