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“What can I get for you?”

The shelf of liquor behind him glistens under the light with temptation.

Screw it.

“Tequila. Double. The cheapest you have.”

I would probably regret the cost in the morning, but right now, I need something to take the edge off the shame and disappointment piercing my body. It had been a rough work week with my hellish boss, and now my date has flaked on me.

To say I am feeling like crap would be an understatement.

The tall shot glass clinks down on the counter, and I fish my ID and credit card out of my purse as he fills it with the promising clear liquid. The bartender checks my ID but just taps my credit card before sliding it back to me.

“It’s on the house.”

I frown but follow his gaze behind me to see the server girl from earlier tossing me a small smile.

Great. Does the entire restaurant know I was stood up?

Probably. Servers gossip like no other.

“Thanks.”

I down the shot in one go, nose wrinkling slightly from the taste as it burns my throat.

What am I still doing here?

How long am I going to wait for a man who isn’t going to turn up?

The icy truth settles in my stomach.

This is the third date in three weeks that Mike has canceled on. A clear pattern. A clear message.

At least the other two times he had the decency to cancel before I left the apartment. This time, he couldn’t even be bothered to do that. He hadn’t responded to my texts all day, but I’d still shown up here like the hopeful, hopeless romantic that I am, thinking that maybe this time would be different.

This is why Hannah, my roommate, told me not to put all my eggs in one basket. She instructed me with a wag of her finger to not close myself off, that I shouldn’t delete my dating apps until Mike explicitly made things official. That committing too quickly in a city like this was a fool’s errand.

And here I am…the fool.

I’d gone all in on the guy after the first date. He’d been so charming that I figured, why waste my time when I could just focus my energy on him? And at first, I’d been pretty proud of my decision. We had five amazing dates over the month, and I’d even met some of his friends at a house party. Everything seemed like it was going perfectly. But now, he is flaking every chance he gets, sending me “sorry I went AWOL” texts before making new plans that he never sticks to. Plans that I’ve been soexcited about and cleared my schedule for, passing up nights out with Hannah and her friends. All wasted time.

I hate that.

There is a level of disrespect that comes from the way he has treated me, and it makes me feel used. Why was it hard to get a little bit of common decency?

I swear on my beating heart that I won’t let this happen again. I won’t let some guy sweep me away with one date, just so he can seal the deal and then use me until he gets bored. The next man I meet, I’m going to make him work for it. I’ll steel my resolve, and I won’t cave to that first kiss and start imagining our future together. I’ll get the respect I deserve.

Despite the fury coursing through my veins at being ghosted, I still feel bone-deep rejection cracking my chest. I hate feeling like I am just someone people can toss away, like I am nothing special.

“Are you okay?”

The deep voice slithers over my skin as a tentative hand taps my bicep. I realize that, in the midst of my mental spiral, I had dropped my head into my hands and am propped on the bar like some woman in mourning. Which, I guess, I am.

I drop my hands onto the cool counter and lift my face to the voice.

“I hate shitty men.”

The declaration leaves my lips before I can think better of it.