The drunkard

OK, so I'm drunk... But I keep having this thought and I wanna get it outta my head:

The Drunkard
"Urgh" he lent against the bar, hanging his head between his shoulders and placed the quarter-pint glass down with a little force - the ice rattled.
He closed his eyes and thought; he thought of the past, the present and the future. Everything and nothing. He burped a few times, his stomach was shaking it's fist at him.
"You've 'ad enough" mumbled the barkeeper, a man with a leather jacket and an eye for people in trouble.
"I have only just started my good man!" stated the wreck who was only held up by the stool he was sitting on, ".. eye whisshh that I was a beet.. bit more gorn." he said, breathing deeply and wobbling just a tiny bit.
"I haevent eeven told yoo my story" he slurred, managing to at least make sense. He peered up at the barkeeper, hoping against hope he'd get a drink and an ear to talk to.
"Ok, another Whiskey Mac was it?" the bartender, although he wore a leather jacket and a pierced earring knew when to listen, and when one more drink was appropriate.
"Thanks Jo.. Actually, what is your name?" Conner closed one eye, concentrating on the man infront of him - as if that made a difference.
The radio at the back of the bar distracted him for a second, the background noise taking control. Suddenly he re-focused in time to hear;
"..Dave. and here's your drink friend."
"The name's Matt. Cheers, DAVE?" he swigged half the glass, and breathed deeply again, blinked slowly and then returned to the real world.
"So what's your story Matt?" the bartender wiped a glass, ready to lend the poor man an ear.
"I lurve someone." Matt leaned forward, almost falling right into his glass.
"Shouldn't that be something to celebrate?"
"Ahhh, you don't noe hur! She's sweet.. She's funni. She is everything!" he waved his hand around, Dave grabbed it and placed it back at Matt's glass.
"BUT-" Dave raised an eyebrow. He knew there was a but. There always was with the guys in trouble. - a 'but', an 'or'.. sometimes even an 'if only' - he knew this one was a 'but'.
".. but.." Matt stared into his glass - it was a regular glass, but the brown liquid inside seemed to slosh about and give him his destiny - or at least give him one certain thing in life; he'd end up in the toilet before mid-day tomorrow. ".. she doesn't like me. I'm not up to her 'standards'." and with the standards, he sloshed the drink again, and pulled a face, before taking a sip.
"But you're friends?" Dave asked. He wiped the bar infront of him, the glas was gone - Matt was too drunk to notice.
"Yes."
"And you value the fact that she's a friend? You like her company and she likes yours?"
"Weeell.." Matt concentrated, he didn't need to but he was forming the words into as short-a sentence as possible... ".. yes!" - he'd done it.
".. and she doesn't know you like her in that way?" Dave attempted to take the drink - Matt pulled it almost falling off his chair...
".. no." he re-balanced and finished off the drink, slipping in some ice to suck on.
"- Well, I think you're better off being friends. You will look out for her, and make sure she's OK. You will also let her make her decisions." Dave stole the glass of ice, Matt looked suspiciously at his hand.
"Yeh.. Yurr right! She's a gooood gurl." He stood up, and thinking better sat back down.
"And you'll pay me the thirty dollars you owe me.." Dave marked up that he under-charged a guy by 5 dollars - it was all he could do. "Do you want a taxi?" he asked, patting Matt on the shoulder.
"Here ya arrr" Matt handed over fourty, ". thanks for the help."
Matt stood up and checked his pockets - he had it all.. Apart from what he wanted. Money, status, a home.. He leaned forward and stumbled towards the exit, still agile enough to avoid anyone in the way. Swinging through the door he wondered what would happen next.. He pulled up his phone and called the number he was thinking of..

OK.. That seems to finish it off.