How Hil Got Hooked on Karaoke--Pt. II

And now, we continue our riveting story....

I looked up, and immediately knew whom she was talking about. Standing about six feet away, leaning against the bar, was just about the most beautiful man I'd ever seen. I'm talking stunning. Hot. Smoking hot. Flaming, smoking hot. And he was looking right at me.

I immediately stared into my drink, and tried desperately to remember how to breathe. My friend started giggling and poking me, telling me I should talk to him. I would have sooner set my own hair on fire.

Now, let me explain my situation. I am disabled. I am about 2 ½ feet tall (yes, you read that correctly), and use a motorized wheelchair. I get a lot of stares. I'm used to this. Going to bars is no different. If men talk to me, it's usually for one of two reasons: (a) they want to ask me stupid questions or make dumb comments, like "How fast does that thing go?" or "Look out! You're gonna get a ticket!" or (b) they think my friends are cute, and believe I will hook them up.

So, naturally, I assumed this guy was in one of those categories.

After about an hour of him hovering near our table staring at me, he came over and talked to me. He was really sweet, and, what do you know, not one stupid comment or question left his lips, and he didn't hit on my friend even once! He also had an amazing singing voice, singing ballads that nearly made me weep. He sat with us the rest of the night. We came back the next two weekends in a row, and then Mr. Hottie gave me his phone number.

Before you start to believe that this is a fairy tale, don't. I am now blissfully married ... not to that guy. He and I became friends, but that's all we ever were. Not that I wouldn't have liked more, but, some things just aren't meant to be. After a few months of spending every Saturday night at this bar, I realized I was no longer there for him. I was there for the music, for my fellow singers, for the applause-all the reasons we all love karaoke so much.

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