How many

You are trying to stay focused. His sentences are long and his opinion is important, but at the other end of the bar a woman with a beer is watching him talk to you. You fixate on her crewneck sweater and her expression: she is aging gracefully and you are not. You have missed his question and fill in the blank with a generous smile. She shifts in the corner of your eye. Her presence is destroying your composure: you become embarrassed of your blouse, your pants, your lipstick, your glasses, your whiskey. She smiles warmly at the bartender as the music changes and when you blink you become her. And now it's you, your mind muted after a long day, two fingers on the neck of a bottle, idly wondering how many bright beautiful young women have pickled in the salty validation of an older man's attention.