Monday, February 03, 2025

Aidan/Emilia: "Is This a Double or a Triple Life?"

I've been a bit too busy to write over the past few weeks, for maybe counter-intuitive reasons:  As expected, the retail job at the bookstore cut my hours a fair amount after Christmas, but they didn't let me go.  I was reliable enough over the holidays that they wanted to keep me on, but, obviously, there weren't going to be nearly so many hours.  So I spent my free time looking for work again, and, surprisingly, I found another job within just a couple of weeks.

The catch is:  I'm occasionally bartending, but mostly waitressing.  In a sports bar.

Well, maybe that's not a "catch", but it's obviously something I would not have been considering a couple months ago, so here we are.  I was very reluctant to consider this sort of job during my first go-around, knowing that what I make would be tied to my appearance and willingness to exploit it, even down to outright flirting, and I don't know that it's exactly growth that I'm more willing to put on a tight t-shirt and smile at guys talking to its contents rather than my face.

Which is a different set of problems than the first time I worked as a bartender.  That was when I actually was Emilia's age, rather than just looking it.  The reasons were the same - student loans and rent had to be paid and my other job wasn't full time - but most everything else was different.  The bar I worked in back then was a dive, with a 19" TV in one corner, shitty beers on draft, and not a lot of call for mixing drinks.  A lot of folks at the bar didn't really want to talk, and only a few really tipped more than the one or two spare dollars they had after settling their tab.  Sometimes you had to fight to get them in a cab at the end of the night, knowing that the cost of that was basically coming out of your tip. 

Now?  The place I'm at is nice.  Not quite such that families come for dinner and don't drink nice, but it's clean, well-lit, and we've got a whole bunch of 4K TVs tuned to various games.  All the guys want to talk to me, and being just a little bit friendly earns me more in tips than I make at the bookstore, especially when I'm behind the bar.  There are a ridiculous amount of beers on tap and in bottles, and it's rare to get someone who just wants whiskey-induced oblivion.  Also, between being in New York and how the clientele all has rideshare apps on their phones, I don't find myself fretting about whether someone I've served is going to kill a family of four on the drive home very often. 

The kids were kind of surprised that I'd go for this kind of work after New Year's, but I told them it was kind of their fault; if I could see Kutter determined to not compromise as she lived Katey's life, I could do the same - and also, for what it's worth, I kind of enjoyed talking with that hedge fund guy until I realized I was kind of trapped, and enjoyed the steakhouse on New Year's Eve.  It made me think about how I missed being in male-coded spaces, and how I've tended to cocoon myself in neutral places that sort of tilt female for the past few months:  Bookshops, markets, a gym that took pains to cater to female clients.  Even if the bar we go to for trivia is kind of bro-y, I'm there with a group of women.

Truth be told, the weirdest night there was a few days ago, when a co-worker from the bookstore showed up and saw me there, made-up, wearing that tight t-shirt and black jeans to match, and said he had to do a double-take, because I'm pretty businesslike, wearing loose outfits and light makeup when selling or restocking books.  He asked how long I'd been living a double life, and I laughed, saying at least since August, and if he saw me at home, he'd say it was at least a triple life.  He raised an eyebrow and asked if I wanted him to see me at home, and I kind of froze while trying to figure out how to say no without hurting his feelings.  Fortunately, he laughed, saying his boyfriend would kill him and I let out a sigh of relief.

(Question for the other Inn people:  I can't say I was ever really good at telling whether folks were straight, bi, gay, cis, or trans, or any of the other parts of LGBTQIA+, but I feel like I'm worse at it now.  Does your brain rewiring short-circuit that?  Does living with the kids, who are also in this situation, mess with my baseline?)

Not sure why I said that, though; I've usually got my guard up just dealing with guys who have had a few too many at this job, and have tried to be really careful about not making cute comments about who I really am all along, just because it feels like it might be off-putting and because it might be the sort of thing that trips a person up.  It actually had me a little thrown, and the kids could tell when I got home.

Rusty shrugged it off.  "So what?  I make jokes like that all the time.  Folks look at you funny, you say 'sorry, you had to be there', and you move on, having amused yourself for a couple seconds.  It's no big deal."

Kutter nodded.  "Same.  Although, the important question - is he cute?"

Rusty snort-laughed.  "Oh, man, I hadn't even thought of that angle!  Well, Dad, is he?"

I rolled my eyes.  "I dunno, maybe?  Just mostly young and, you know, gay."  I stopped and thought about it for a second.  "Nah, it's not about that at all.  I think I just worked a long shift and seeing him kind of loosened all the borders between parts of my life."  I got up from the chair where I'd been sitting and headed toward the bathroom, ready to shower and go to bed.

Honestly, I can't wait for reservations to return to the Inn to open back up in a couple days.  Too bad I'm going to have to see this guy at work before then.

-Aidan/Emilia

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