You didn’t look twice when I walked in. No pause, no recognition, no careful politeness. Just a normal glance, almost dismissive.

I’m used to admiration, even expectation. I order a drink, already irritated by how long it takes. The bartender clearly does recognize me. While making my drink, she whispers something to her female colleague. They both look at me, amused, seductive.“Can I have my drink before the night is over?” I ask, irritation slipping into my voice.That does the trick. She apologizes quickly, opening another button of her blouse as if that might help. It doesn’t. I turn away, scanning the bar instead.Then I hear something I didn’t expect.
It isn’t whispered. It’s loud enough that I know it’s meant for me to hear.“What an asshole,” a woman’s voice says. “He waited, what, two seconds?”I look around, searching for the source. Your friend shifts uncomfortably under my gaze, clearly uneasy. I take a few steps closer.When you speak to me like I’m just another man, without hesitation, without apology, it catches my attention more than applause ever did.
I look at you and ask,
“Tell me, do you always speak your mind like that, or am I just particularly easy to disagree with?”