Tuesday, May 24, 2011

Bar room etiquette

**NOTE: The following was written in an intentionally sarcastic manner for the express purpose of entertaining the reader and does not reflect the author’s actual attitude toward the opposite sex.**

This past weekend a group of us went on a minor bar crawl as we’ve been doing more often lately due to our status as soon-to-be-gradumacating-seniors. Starting from north campus (which has a more chill, hole-in-the-wall bar scene) and making our way south (where the bustling hub of campus nightlife is), all was well until we reached our last alcoholic beverage establishment.

My roommate and I got into an argument before entering the bar. (It wasn’t that big of a deal – an unintentional offhand remark was made, which was then reacted to negatively, which was also reacted to negatively, etc. We easily resolved it the next morning under more sober circumstances. No harm no foul.) But back to the story.

So our group enters the bar, me heading to one side of the room, my feuding roomie to the other side, and our other friends splitting off to the respective corners. *Ding* *ding* *ding* Face off! Haha. no, we pretty much just talked our friends’ ears off about the argument and steered clear of each other.

And that’s when it happened – the transgression of which is the main topic of this post. A guy dressed in a red polo shirt, khaki shorts, and Sperry’s (blech! shoot me now) walked up to the bar with a group of similarly clad brosefs and sat down next to a visibly upset me.

“Hey, can I buy you a drink?” He asked with a toothy grin. I was furious. Who did this guy think he was, trying to hit on me when I was clearly in a bad mood? Apparently this was a perfect opportunity for Mr. Frattastic Douche to get an “in,” because you know, any girl who’s upset at a bar is SURE to be charmed by a stranger with copious amounts of alcohol and an obvious agenda. Take me now! You’re sooo irresistible. *Eye roll*

Needless to say, I reamed him out. I let him have it like they let you have free water bottles at conventions and shit. Surprisingly enough, he stayed put. But the douchiest of the douches usually stick around no matter what, so maybe it wasn’t all that surprising. They take being told to fuck off as a challenge; a test of their pick-up skills, so to speak.

Mr. FD changed his game plan at this point after his knight in shining armor approach failed him, and opted for the “I-do-give-a-shit-even-though-I’m-a-complete-stranger; let’s-go-back-to-my-place-and-talk-about-it” bit instead. It was a valiant effort, really. I ignored him until he eventually abandoned his pursuit. But gosh, was I flattered! If only I hadn’t gone home alone that night, I would’ve had the pleasure of getting tested for every venereal disease under the sun the next day. Darn!


Peg said...

It always makes me laugh when men try chatting women up in bars. Your post about it has made me chuckle.


katie said...

This is exactly why I hate going to bars. I prefer parties. (I'll admit though....I may have gotten him to buy me a drink then NOT gone home with him. Simply because it's a free drink. But then I'd have probably thought "spiked with a rufee" and left.) I'm terrible in a bar.

katie said...

I also like that one of your tags reads "douchebag" and that my capsha was "shlub".

Brooke said...

I have no qualms about letting a guy buy me as many drinks as he wants because I'm not going home with him either way. He's being an asshole by trying to get me to go home with him and using alcohol to get me to do it, so I might as well take the free drinks, right? I'm really good at not going home with random dudes no matter how drunk I am, so it works out well.

Toni Rose said...

Dear Brooke,

LOL :)) I usually take advantage when a guy buy me drinks because I get it for free.


But I don't think my boyfriend loved that idea.

-_- hihihihi


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