Irony

NOUN 

1. humor based on opposites: humor based on using words to suggest the opposite of their literal meaning

2. something humorous based on contradiction: something said or written that uses humor based on words suggesting the opposite of their literal meaning

3. incongruity: incongruity between what actually happens and what might be expected to happen, especially when this disparity seems absurd or laughable

4. incongruous thing: something that happens that is incongruous with what might be expected to happen, especially when this seems absurd or laughable

It's the 3rd and 4th definition that I'm goin for here.  (in case the bold print didn't clear that up for you.)

Years ago, around 2002-2003, while working as a waitress at a sports bar in midtown I had some dealings with the mob of my own.  The Irish mob,  "The Westies"... or at least the sons and nephews of the crew that was known as the westies back in the day.  Supposedly they don't exist anymore, or at least, they don't have any power or run anything anymore... but they do.  Or at least, in my opinion they do.

My bread and butter back then was Sunday football.  The girls that I worked with had been there for years and had attracted a huge following of regulars for Sunday afternoons during football season.  I jumped right in and loved it.  Waiting on a room full of guys when you're 24,25,26-- it's money in the bank.  All you have to do is look cute, make sure the right games are on the right tv's, and keep everyone's glass full.  Don't get me wrong, it was a lot of running around. We hustled.  But, we got PAID.  We were allowed to give our regulars a 25% discount on every check on Sundays, and in addition, of course, we only charged our guys for every second or third drink they ordered. (give or take.)   The boys made up the difference each week in our tips. And when they were winning their bets, even better.  These guys were literally paying my rent and bills just by being there once a week.

After a while, I started hanging out with the guys after work in all the regular mid-town and  hell's kitchen bars that they frequented as well as some really shady after hours places downtown that I'd never be able to direct you to in a million years. There were no addresses on the doors.  Just guys who knew where they were, and if you weren't with one of those guys, then you'd never know they existed.  I started hooking up with one of them- Chris.  He was exactly my type.  Blue collar tough guy.  An overweight Marc/Donnie Walberg looking tough guy.  We had fun.  I knew he was not a good guy. Not someone to take home to mom and dad.  But exactly right for taking home to my Bayridge apartment from time to time. 

Chris looked out for me at work and made sure everyone was behaving themselves. This was fun.  At this time, the bar was very laid back.  We were allowed to sit with our customers when it was slow and smoke a cigarette, take a break.  And we did.  This was possibly the most fun time in my life.  It was just pure fun and money with no consequences for any of my actions.  I went home to my own bed with no one to explain anything to, and spend my money on myself and anything I wanted to spend it on.  The bar was in a hotel.  Since I worked the closing shift on Saturdays, they'd give me a room to stay in so I could be on time to open on time for football on Sundays.  This was no dive.  This was a 3 star hotel in Midtown Manhattan. So I'd go out with my co-worker and friend, we'd meet up with the boys, take it from there, at the end of the night, crash on a "Sweet Sleeper" matteress and then get ready to do it all again.  Like I said, best time of my life.

One Sunday, towards the end of the season, it was quiet.  A lot of the regulars stopped coming in by playoffs because they could watch the games from home.  So I was sitting in one of the back booths reading "The Westies"--- having no idea at this time who I had been spending all of my time with lately.

Chris came over to me and discretely told me that I should probably put the book away for another time.  He later explained who some of the guys were that I had been waiting on and hanging out with for the last couple of months.  Sons, nephews, friends and neighbors of all the characters I was reading about.  I had never made the connection.  It would have been too far fetched. Too much of a coincidence at this stage in my life to believe.  But it was true.  I started paying attention to names and faces and facts.

I was blown away.   Admittedly, I felt a little bit like a movie star. I thought it was the coolest thing in the world.   Here I was, hanging out with these bad ass guys. Like, really bad guys.  Not like, "oh, he's a bad boy."  No, these guys really were bad boys... not just the "type", the real thing.   I pictured myself in 8"X10" black and white undercover photos in some fbi guy's folder somewhere.  In the movie, I'd be the sassy waitress with a sharp tongue and quick wit.

On New Year's Eve 2003, Chris and his guys rang in the new year with me while I worked, and then left for a party after the ball dropped.  I got out of work around 4 or 5am and was supposed to call him and meet up.  I called and called and called....  straight to voice mail every time. mother fucker.

3 days later I finally got a call from him.  He was just released from jail.  He and his boys had gotten into a fight on their way to the party and never made it there. They got locked up and just got out.

That was pretty much it for me.  I realized that I didn't have the patience for this variety of bad boy. I had learned about too much crazy badness in the few months I spent with these guys, and I was ready to move on. So I did.  Focused on my friends and having "normal" fun again and kinda let the boys drift off gradually.

Mid February, a few weeks later, I was across the street from my hotel at the bar that my co-workers and I went to after most shifts for a couple of drinks before heading home.  I was telling my new year's eve story to my bartender.  Of course he was sympathetic, and giving me the whole speech of how I deserved better and how I should go on a date with a man who knows how to treat a girl right. 

He asked me out to dinner.  I was buzzed and feeling sorry for myself, so I said yes.  I felt guilty for saying yes, know full well that I had no interest in him whatsoever.  He was completely NOT my type.  He wore sweater vests and TURTLE NECKS!  He was fair skinned with light eyes.  Certainly did not have a hint of bad boy in him- not my type.  But he was always nice, and a gentleman and had a similar sense of humor as mine.   So I went.

We went to Dos Caminos on 2nd Ave. I had THE BEST FIRST DATE OF MY LIFE.

One year and one week later, we were engaged.  That was my first date with John.