So just a few days ago (Saturday to be exact) I decided to go down to the Oregon. I got off late and just wanted a drink. I’ve been working a lot lately, and not doing my usual bar hangs, and I needed to get out. So I stopped down at Blind Bob’s. And I had THE WORST stranger interactions I’ve ever had. Ever. Just god awful. I kept it sassy, but man I need to vent this one out.
So it’s Saturday and I get it, people go out and bars are packed. That’s cool by me I don’t mind at all. So I find one of the only empty seats at the bar (near a corner with an empty seat to my right). I’m hanging out, and can I just mention that there is not a single bar I visit anymore where I have to actually order my drink. If you’re curious as to why, visit my blog post “Why you should be friends with a bartender… but don’t date them!” And I’m relaxing, enjoying the music and that’s where the fun ends for awhile. Three dudes walk up and are hanging in front of the service mat. So I was working on a blog, and when I do that I use my notepad on my phone and just type (text?) away. I usually don’t get bothered, and I can hear what’s going on around me, it’s just what I do. If anything it’s an occasional “What are you doing?”, but one of the guys to my right is talking about getting out of jail and another to his right is bitching about people being so obsessed over their phones and Facebook. I can hear him and just giggle a little to myself. Really guy? What year are you living in? Find me three people under the age of 30 who don’t use some form of social media, and I’ll be impressed.
Now the bar is crowded and I’m kind of surrounded so I can’t really get out of where I am, but a little more personal space would be nice. A few minutes pass with elbows and shoulders bumping me and that’s when Captain D-Bag introduces himself to me. Unfortunately, he’s standing in a way that is directly in my line of sight. And I couldn’t even tell you this guys name. But he’s asking if I’m here alone. Of course I say yes, I shouldn’t have to answer any other way. And that’s when it starts to go downhill. He’s mocking the fact that I’m on my phone. And I laughed it off once…. twice…. a third time…. And then the comment is getting old. (Kids, please keep in mind that during this entire conversation, I was trying to end it and avoid talking to this guy and his friends. I am NOT glutton for punishment by any means. But when you’re being a dick and I’m not in the mood to deal, I’m going to get sassy.) A few minutes pass and the silence is ended with this gem of a conversation:
“So do you have a boyfriend?”
“No.” (The sass in my voice and lack of eye contact should have been sign #1 to leave me alone.)
“Do you have a girlfriend?”
Awkward look “No.” (By awkward I mean bitch face look. Sign #2. But I’ll continue to see what is said next.)
“Well why not?”
“Because I don’t need or want one.”
“You don’t want one? How old are you?” (What’s even more frustrating is I had this exact conversation this summer while hanging out at Wing’s with a drunk dude. My age has nothing to do with not wanting a boyfriend. I would do a WBW on that night too… but it would be so similar to this story of douche baggery.)
“No and I’m 23, I have plenty of time.” (By this point I’m extremely aggravated– please learn the signs that you are annoying someone. )
“Well I’m sure in 2-3 years you’ll want a husband and kids and want to be settled down, but you won’t meet anyone with your face buried in your phone. Facebook is fake, and you’re missing real people.”
This is the point in the conversation where the guy and his friends are complimenting my eyes and telling me I’m pretty, and I look up and say “thank you” to the friends but not Captain D-Bag, look down, and keep working on my blog. They are talking about my tattoos, and even better the bartender hears them. It’s the kid that just got out of jail asking me how many I have and telling me that it’s cool I have them. What’s even more creepy is that I don’t remember him being able to see my tattoos. But If you’ve read previous WBW blogs then you’ll know how much I HATE when men talk about my tattoos. The bartender had to know this because he starts joking with the guys telling them to keep asking things like what do they mean, how much did they cost, and my
“favorite”… did they hurt? — he told them in a jokey manner that he was sure I loved these questions. But the guys just stared at him like a light bulb finally went off in their heads and they realized how dumb they sounded. You’d think the conversation would be over finally….
That’s when a man walks up on my left. [PS I can’t see out of my left eye, so it’s kind of uncomfortable for me to have people on my left, but he asks if he can squeeze in to order a drink.] “Sure, go ahead.” He instantly is yelling for a bartenders attention and is leaning so far back into me that I grabbed his arm and pushed him away. This went on for a couple of annoying minutes. And that’s when Captain D-Bag notices him and gets so excited about this guy. I guess they talked earlier in the night… So now they are yelling from one side of me to the other side about who knows what, and the guy on my left is so in to it, that he is sitting on my leg. Alright dude… for real… I need space. I can’t get out because there is a crowd behind me, people on both sides, and I have a good fucking seat anyway.
I gave it two minutes and looked at D-Bags buddy and said “tell your friend to stop talking to him so he’ll order and leave. I need some personal space and he is sitting on me.”
That’s when Captain D-Bag gave me a lecture worthy of getting punched in the dick. “You’re sitting at a bar, there is no such thing as personal space. If you want room you need to go sit at a table. But you can’t expect anything else by sitting here.” — Alright dick. I was here first and had plenty of room until you started encouraging this dude. So before I could respond to him I had to push the foreign guy by his arm and said “order your drink and move, you’re sitting on me.” He was so oblivious that he had to look in my lap to see what he was doing. Finally! A bartender took his drink order and he started yelling back at D-Bag. So I stopped him again and in the most angry voice I had, I told him if he wanted to talk to that guy that he needed to walk around the corner of the bar and give me room. Guys… I enjoy talking to strangers. I like the weird and unusual things in this world. But I can’t stand rude jerks.
When foreign guy and D-Bag stop talking of course he starts back on me. In the mean time his friends are now apologizing for him being a douche and that’s when he proudly says “I know I’m a douche, but I’m okay with that.” Please– if anyone calls you any foul name — don’t be proud of it. Maybe you should change your gross personality. I just want to keep writing my blog… Please just stop talking in my direction… 😦
So he goes on about me being attractive again. It’s not flattering at all to me, just shut the fuck up already. It’s like a bipolar effect of me being good looking, to me being glued to my phone and I’m just laughing to myself at his stupid commentary. Time to unleash the bitch from hell… (You may not think this is the rudest I could have been or should have been… but for me, this is the one of the worst things I could have said to him. And I don’t feel an ounce of guilt.)
“I’m really ready to meet a girl and settle down, I would love to be married.”
“Maybe you should get on Facebook to meet her, since it’s fake, and you’re a douche in real life.”
His friends are finally telling him to stop talking to me, that I’m going to start burning him and that he looks dumb.
“She’s not burning me, this is kind of fun. I’m just telling her that I would love a girlfriend. She’s so beautiful, and I just want to talk to her.”
I finally looked at him and to shut this down I said “If you really want, I’ll find you a girl in this bar who would be willing to talk to you and fuck, but that girls is not me. So you can stop now.”
“By all means if you can find me a girl!”
“Well it’s going to be the girl barfing in the corner of the room, she’s the only one with low enough standards to talk to you. So you should go over there and leave me alone.”
And it was over, he left me alone and I didn’t have to hear his stupid comments again. But re-enter foreign dude. Again he starts yelling at the bartenders to get their attention. If I’ve said it once I’ve said it a million times… DO NOT YELL AT YOUR BARTENDER. Of course, it’s a busy night and the bartender finally yells back at him that he’s being rude and if he is going to be a dick to go somewhere else. He shuts up for a minute and they finally come back to serve him. “Can I have a beer?” “What kind of beer?” “I don’t know, what do you have?”
You’re kidding me, right? Beer and Dayton go hand and hand. Butter to popcorn. Just watching this guy interact with human beings made me feel the dumbest I ever have. They serve him the basics, and it’s over. FINALLY.
The only way to recover from this night was shots. One for the bartender, one for me. And more drinks.
Look if you know when you drink that you become a giant Douche Bag… Don’t interact with people you don’t know. And when you’re friends are telling you to calm down… Do it. I can usually handle my own, and this kind of stuff doesn’t bother me. But when I’m doing my own thing and you’re chiming in to my life too much, I will shut you down. Just drink and enjoy the night, play it cool. And leave the girl that’s by herself and working on her phone ALONE. People can be so idiotic.
Ahh… it feels so good to get this out of my head and in my WBW category. Let’s take a moment to cheers to no more nights surrounded by the Biggest Douche Bags in Dayton!
Thanks for reading my friends, live long and prosper.
“Sometimes your mouth is like a zipper: by the time you realize that it’s open, it has already embarrassed you…”