’He is too old for me.’ You repeat in your head after involuntarily sneaking glances at the man whose sat next to you at the bar. So in attempt to clear your mind, you call over the bartender.

“I’ll take a glass of Jack Daniel’s Tennessee Honey. Neat, please.” You tell the bartender. But almost immediately as you finish speaking, you hear a voice from beside you.

“Neat whiskey? Good girl. You’ve got good taste.” The man next to you says with an almost proud smile, leaning his forearms against the oak wood bar. Though his tone is friendly and not creepy.