The Woman In Violet Dress

GREG was sitting at the table near a dim-lighted lamppost. He was listening to the piano playing Chopin, occasionally sipping on his lager. He was in a jazz club.

A woman walked in and sat at one edge of the wine bar. Greg looked at the woman intently. She was stunningly pretty. Even with just the little light from the lampposts at the four corners of the club, he didn't fail to see.

Greg decided to offer the woman a drink. But before he could even leave his table, the man at the other edge of the wine bar has approached the woman. Greg went back to his seat, feeling bad. He watched the two with resignation. The woman, smiling at the man, shook her head. Greg's interest was revived, he thought he still had a chance. But immediately after the first one left, another man walked to the woman. The second man got the same treatment as the first.

Greg sat back on his chair and took a deep breath. Things were going through his mind. The woman was not going to be easy. Maybe she just wanted to be alone. He watched the woman as she talked to the bartender, appearing like she was ordering a drink. The bartender did his thing and then returned to the woman with a glass of wine. As the bartender was serving the woman her drink, Greg quickly walked towards the bar and talked to the bartender without looking at the pretty woman.

“Did you notice a woman in violet dress walk out the door?” he asked.

The bartender, refreshing his memory, shook his head, “No, man ... 'haven't seen a woman in violet dress.”

Greg then walked towards the door and went out of the club. After about a minute, he walked back in and sat at the bar, next to the woman.

“Your date?” the bartender asked.

“Blind date,” Greg replied, “she told me that
she's going to the lady's room ... she didn't come back.”

The bartender gave Greg half a smile and said, “Would you care for a drink?”

Greg looked towards the man at the right edge of the bar, “What's he drinking?

“Jack and Coke,” the bartender said.

Greg shook his head, “Too early in the night for Jack ....” He looked towards the pretty woman on his left, “What's she drinking?”

“Gin Julep,” the bartender replied.

Greg nodded his head, “Gin Julep is fine.”

Greg, ignoring the woman who was sitting next to him, watched the bartender prepare his drink. Shortly, the bartender returned with the Gin Julep, “Why do you think she left? ... if you don't mind me asking.”

“I don't know,” Greg shrugged his shoulders, “I must be looking like a jerk. Do I look like a jerk?” On the edge of his eyes, Greg saw the woman took a quick look at him. She was listening.

“You look fine to me, man,” the bartender readily answered, “I wonder what else could she want.”

“Who could know what women really want,” Greg exhaled, “... not us men.”

“I'm with you there, brother,” the bartender seconded, “and it makes us look bad ... look stupid.”

A smile was formed on the woman's pretty face as she stirred her drink with a straw. Greg took his chance.

“What do women really want?” Greg said as he rolled his eyes towards the woman, hoping that she would get into the conversation.

The woman stared at Greg, making sure that she was the one being spoken to. “Different women want different things,” she answered and then looked back down to her drink.

“Yeah!” the bartender smilingly added. “How to know them ... that's the trick.”

“Guys ... you just have to learn our language,” the woman offered.

“Are we not using the same language, men and women?” the bartender, still smiling, played dumb.

The woman looked at the bartender as if he was just a young boy and said, “Sometimes, women mean more than what they say.”

“Can't women just mean exactly what they say, and say exactly what they mean?” the bartender sounded, “I'm sure there'll be peace on earth and goodwill to men ... and women.”

“You men!” the woman said as she shook her head and fixed her eyes at her drink, “You want all things to be easy for you, including women.”

“We just want to make sure that we are giving exactly what women want,” Greg butted in, worried that the bartender has turned the woman off. “We just don't want to be missing the mark.”

“Fortunately for you guys,” the woman said as she looked at Greg and then the bartender, “'effort' counts a lot to us, women.”

“So, there's hope for men-kind,” Greg, smiling, gestured a toss to the bartender and then emptied his glass with one swig. When his throat was cleared, he asked the bartender for another drink.

Then he faced the pretty woman. “Can I buy you another drink?” he asked and then held his breath. The woman stared at him for a moment and then said, “Sure.” So, he bought her another drink.

As the conversation went on, Greg found the woman to be nice and interesting. He wanted what was started to last long, longer than the night. He was thinking on inviting her out to a place more cozy, but something was tearing him apart. A part of him wanted at the outset to come out honest and clean and confess that there really was no woman in violet dress. The other part of him was in the negative, believing that she would despise him if he told her the truth about the woman in violet dress. Should he?