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Paul's busy with the customer next to me so he just nods toward the left and then he's scooting off -- hopefully he'll return with my martini. I look over to the left and see Uma with someone I don't know. He's very ... um ... new. Our eyes meet for just one click before I turn away. I glance in the mirror behind the bar and observe Uma with this new guy. At least he doesn't look like the stable of guys who look like Ben and Cort. So he's not 'one of them.'

Uma's touching her hair a lot and that always means she's into the man she's with. It's not exactly a signal she's flirting but who knows? Whoever the guy is, he'd be a better catch than Skinner, in my book.

Where is Skinner anyway?

Oh. There he is. And look at that pissy look on his face. Yeah. He sees Uma over there. He wouldn't miss a thing, would he? Not our old Max Skinner.

The guy sitting next to me asks me what I'm drinking. "Nothing at the moment," I say with a little sneer as I gesture toward the empty space before me. He says he's happy to order for me. I say, "Do I actually look that helpless to you? Don't worry -- I think I know how to order a drink in a bar."

He gives me that look men give when a single woman sidles up to a bar. It's the look that say, 'well, damn woman -- if you came in here alone, obviously you wanted to be picked up, so don't go all bitchy on me like I don't measure up because all it'd take me is two minutes and I'd show you something you'll never forget.' And that always makes me wonder why men think any woman would want any man who could show her anything in two minutes? Has the concept of foreplay never entered their minds? Don't they think we may actually find it a turn off he thinks he can be on his way after two minutes? What do they not get?

It's like when you walk past a construction site and the men all start hooting at you. I'm always tempted to turn around and say, "Whoo, baby! Now that's what I'm talkiing about! Yeah, you turn me on with that kinda talk about my fine self. C'mon over here and let's go get busy behind the cement mixer.' They all run for the hills they'd be so scared.

So the man next to me says, "I was just trying to be a gentleman."

I smile at him. "Then why are you trying so hard to hide that pretty gold wedding band?"

He puffs up his chest. "I wasn't asking you to fuck me. Just trying to buy you a drink. Jesus, lady."

I put my hand on his and give him my most sultry look. I even lick my lips. "Well, how disappointing. I was so hoping you'd at least ask me to fuck."

Now he gives me a double take. And then he chuckles. It's a nice healthy chuckle. "You got quite a mouth on you, lady."

And with that, he takes his beer and he leaves. I watch him walk to the other end of the bar where he joins a group of four other men dressed a lot like him. He says something; they all look at me. I wave. They laugh. They engage in the ritual round of men hitting each other on the shoulder. Oh, me and my smart mouth have fans. The guy who tried to pick me up is pink but he's taking the ribbing of his friends in stride.

Where's Paul with my martini?