I will never ever get used to random girls who offer to buy me a drink at a bar. It doesn’t happen often, but when it does, it catches me off guard and certainly piques my interest in them. I find it respectable.
I tell this story often, but I thought I’d write it here.
On the night my grandfather passed away, I was out and about roaming the bars of Manhattan.
Be who you are and say what you feel, because those who mind don’t matter and those who matter don’t mind.
One evening, a man walked up to me. He was overweight, tattooed on his neck with a blonde crew cut hair. He stopped and started stuttering over his words, shame coming out of each and every letter.
"I’m sorry," he said, "But if you could help me…my girlfriend just left me and I’m former soldier who got shot in the war two times. I just had surgery and I need to get home but I don’t have any money but I-"
I gave him whatever was in my wallet, a few dollar bills and a five.
I don’t know why, but I was just in a good mood. For all I know, he could be lying.
But does that really matter? When you’re just two strangers passing by. I’ll never see him again. I just trusted him.