The horrible one

In my head
it's all still going around
the ever lasting question
will we talk again
will we ever?

The loud pain is gone
faded
washed down the drain
along with the remains
of that alcoholic night.

But the empiness there throbs
reminding me
that something used to be there
reminding me to care.

Sat in a bar tonight
alone
at an hour that was too early for alcohol
but the winter sky tricks you about that,
it's what's so lovely about winter.

So I drank my bourbon
and that guy next to me chatted me up
as I though
good company or no company,
good alcohol
and good music.
And it's good.

Sweet guy,
he wanted to ask my for my number
as I got up to leave.
I would have given it to him,
why not?
(though that question alone
is reason enough).
I took a strange kind of pleasure
from the thought he'd beat himself over
for not doing so in the end.

Ever wanted to use someone not to think?
Or am I the only horrible one?