Nineteen years old.
I was pining over, Reuben, after learning that my husband (that I am married to now) had married someone else. I was so obliterated by this, I didn’t date anyone for six months which is eons at that age and also for someone like me who really likes to be with man.
In whatever case, I didn’t have a man but I did have, Reuben, who wore white pants by the way. I knew I was fantasizing. I’m telling you I was utterly and totally conscious of what I was doing which may be hard to believe for a 19-year-old but I’ll tell you how I knew.
I knew because I was a bartender and I had been one for four years by then. I was seasoned to say the least. I knew what went on in bars and I specifically knew about the catbird seat.
I learned about the catbird seat when some ol’ drunken bastard stumbled by me in a bar and told me he’s seen me down the street. Well, yeah. I was the bartender in the bar down the street but then he said this, or rather, he slobbered and spit it because he was that drunk (Neptune). “I saw you,” he said, accusingly. “You were sittin’ in the catbird seat, all right.”
Well, hell. I didn’t know what a catbird seat was so I didn’t know it I should slap the guy or thank him so I muttered something and went home and called the library.
I specifically called the reference department because while we had no internet then, you could call the reference department of the public library and get any question answered.
“What is a catbird seat?” I inquired.
The librarian told me it was an elevated position, commonly used when talking about politicians and I thanked her. Point is I knew that, Reuben was in the catbird seat. He was on stage wasn’t he?
A bartender is on stage as well and if you wonder about this, all you have to do is be a bartender and then turn around and put money in the register while everyone looks at your ass. Matter of fact, it may be your ass on stage, not you but in whatever case, Reuben was on stage or maybe it was his dick on stage because those pants were white.
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