Girl Fight, Girl Fight

I'd only been dating Sylvia for a couple of weeks but things were going well. She worked as a paralegal during the day and tended bar at night at a mid-town establishment called Harlings. She worked so hard because she was a single Mom of four children; one each from four different men. I don't know why I found four marriages sexually intimidating as I had been with dozens of women during my young life. I was imtimidated until I got her in bed. Even doing my most standard moves she'd pipe up, "What are you doing?" In the middle of it all. I'd answer, "I'm making love to you." She must have picked 4 clumsy men. Sylvia was muy bonita and I was falling in love.

One night I went to meet her at the bar job after I got off work. I was a chef at a famous restaurant and got off early one day a week. She ordered me some decent food from the little kitchen and brought me a beer. We exchanged loving touches and a few kisses. I liked being around her so I stayed for a while. Just then a bunch of my friends walking into the bar. They had just attended an annual jem show at a Jewelers we all knew. They all had been drinking champagne and bubbles were coming out of their ears. In tow were my two best friends, their wives and an old girlfriend that I'd dated on and off for years. She was elegant Irish, a bit of a bitch, very beautiful and this night more than a little drunk. Of course, the entourage spotted me sitting alone and gathered around. Sylvia was waiting on us and took an order for drinks. Mary, the Irish girl got up and started pumping quarters into the juke box. She also had bar experience, so she reached around the back of the box and cranked up the volume. Mary then sat down next to me and started in with flirting. Sylvia spotted it from across the room. Mary wanted to dance. I tried to get everyone up but only Joel and Betty joined us on the floor. Sylvia saw all of this an went up to the juke box and unpluged it. Then she got into Mary's face and said, " I saw you change the volume. You cannot touch the machine."

Mary got right into her face. Fiery hispanic and fighting Irish, I reveled in the moment then stepped in saying "Mary, Sylvia is my girlfriend. Please don't fight." I loved her protectiveness and Mary's Irish fire. Life and love goes on.

The truth is Mary didn't love me but Sylivia did for a little while and it was good. There was no
fight. The myth of the girl fight goes on. I got close.