don't fall in love with the bartender you only hooked up with 4 free drinks!!!!

I used to live in New York, and kiss bartenders, hoping for free drinks, but instead acquired feelings, which, per usual, I tried pretending didn’t exist. A Sunday way back when, I woke up, tired, cold and very much hungover. I spent the night with the bartender, in the deep depths of Brooklyn. It was 1 pm and I was still in his single sized bed, no lights shining through. I was in a cave, completely unaware of the outside. I looked at my watch and shot out of bed, I had spent the whole night and day with this guy, it was time to leave. He took me to the train and I waited amongst the everyday people making their way back to Manhattan. When living in New York, the walk of shame is always quite different, you either take the literal walk, take a taxi, or like me, take a 45 minute train ride with a bunch of people who don’t even notice you, yet it seems as though every single person knows exactly what you did last night. I had to walk 10 blocks to get to the N train, because the D had not been working. I sat down, my hair a mess, my makeup smudged, and the same clothes I wore last night. It was 1 pm, and I was still tasting the whiskey on my lips, while everyone else seemed to had been out of their bed doing their normal Saturday routines since 8 that morning. I looked up, and the guy right across from me could have been my fathers twin. He was asleep, and his eyebrows were arched in a way that made him always seem angry, just like my dad. I couldn’t look away until the next set of people walked on the train a few stops down. A young man, probably in his 30′s walked in with a woman around the same age. He held her hand tightly as they sat down next to each other. They laughed and held each other as close as possible, I noticed the two rings on their fingers, which I assume meant they were already married. She was gazing off in the distance and he was gazing at her. The sweetest most simple smile appeared on his face and you could just tell how happy he was. That was that reeeeaal love. The  way he treated her, and the way he looked at her, you could feel the love he felt. It hurt. I sat there and thought about my night, and my life and suddenly this burst of sadness rushed over me. I wanted someone to love me the way he loved her, I wanted to love someone that way. That pure, careless love. My heart ached for that feeling again, because I’ve felt it before, but it had been lost. The couple were so entranced by each other that they missed their stop. The one right before mine. I got off at Union Square and watched them as they got off with me laughing at themselves. I left that couple, and the guy that looked like my dad and I went home. I felt a bit of happiness knowing that there were still people out there that could be so in love that they missed their train stop. I wonder everyday if I’ll ever actually feel that kind of love again, or if I wasted it on guys who most likely don’t remember my middle name.