I have often enjoyed watching the chicanery of the "Bar" scene. Watching dopey, currently under employed I.T. professionals try and outwit the legions of fake titted & fake tanned bar stars, (and their muscle bound, mathematically challenged Alpha male counterparts.) in a hopeless quest to knock boots. There should be a television documentary about it. You know the kind, hosted by some stuffy British Sociologist. We need to get to the root of this mindless skronk fest.
Before I met my wife, I used to frequent these social backwaters, mostly to fuel my smug, self serving sense of humor. It’s a fun game to watch. Esp. When you get to hear the lies we tell one another. My favorite lie, is this... "I love you like a friend..." followed quickly by, "you’re like a brother / sister to me."
This is plain old fashioned dishonesty. Just tell the truth. If you ever hear someone say that kinda crap at a bar, you should call them on it. Do what I did. "I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to over hear you, but I have to ask, why are you lying to him? He seems like a big boy, I bet he could handle the truth. He might even respect you more for it." The guy nodded in agreement.
"This whole dating thing could go a whole lot more smoothly if we played it a little more honestly!!!"
He nodded again. She just looked at me like I killed her puppy... and started to sputter.
I have to admit, I’m no angel, and I’ve said and done my fair share of doozeys on people. (but, usually when provoked...)
I remember once, after being set up on a blind date by an acquaintance, I wound up going to a "new" country bar. It’s was a fairly typical meat (sp) market. It had all the trimmings, The Big voice DJ, The watered down Budweiser, and the crappy cowboy theme. I knew things weren’t going well (mostly due to my loathing of Country music. To me It sounds like someone swinging a cat, and wallowing in it’s misery.)
But I digress, The date (as such) went horribly, yet brilliantly wrong. This little Bar starlet, decided to tell me about her perfect mate. (Here is where the shit really hit the fan.)
Starlet: "Um... yeah so like, I wanna guy who drives a sport utility vehicle."
Me: "Why? What’s wrong just having a car?"
Starlet: "Cause it means he makes a lot of money... like a doctor, or something... and he needs to own a big house..."
Me: "I see... so it’s about the money?"
Starlet: " No... well kinda I guess... Does that sound bad?"
Me: "Does it sound bad to you?"
Starlet: "No...What do you do anyway?"
Me: "I perform therapeutic abortions..."
Starlet: "WHAT?"
Me: "Yeah, so if you or any of your other shallow, ignorant, idiot friends ever needs a discount..."
SLAP!!!
Me: As she walked away, "You are the most shallow, morally vacant person I have ever met!!! It makes me sad to think that there are actually people like you out there. God forbid you look for a compatible mate. Gold Digger !!! Get used to disappointment!!!"
Starlet: Turns back toward me, "Fuck you!!!"
I have never felt more libertated that I did at that exact moment. I realized there was nothing for me in that type of environment.
Every now and then, when I wind up having to go to a bar like that, (for a birthday party, or a work function...) I like to spot the people there who are in the same boat as I am. The people watchers. They seem to know the lay of the land. It’s a small group, but a wise one.
End of Transmission
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