Vampires are Real

I'm sitting at the bar with my wife.
A dark-haired girl looks over her shoulder at me, then pauses.
This happens a lot, or at least often. Whichever means "with considerable frequency".
I don't place the face b/c when the realization of who I am dawns, she turns not so subtly away, and the girl with some guy sitting across from her notices it and involuntarily looks at me.

Later, the dark-haired girl gets up to step outside and I place the girl.
She's Colombian. We dated briefly awhile back. Judging by the rock on her finger, and the kids on her phone she makes a point to show the girl as I pass on my way to the bathroom she's now married with children. How trite.
Go figure. Of all the places in this city, we cross paths. Year and a half plus later on.
I sip my beer. But I don't want to be drunk. I haven't quit drinking. Drinking quit me.
I'm back home. The west coast was blase at best.

My life is just as I left it. I'm grateful to have my routine back, to smoke in the privacy of my own home and sleep in a big bed.

It's something, I guess.
I'm left wondering if some people just aren't relationship material.
I think of Avary's film adaptation of Ellis' Rules of Attraction.
Vampires are real.
I'm an emotional vampire, feeding off of other people's real emotions.

I put on a happy face and call it a night.
To sleep, perchance to dream.
- Yrs. in Christ