Friday, July 20, 2012

The Help

Try to limit bar attendance to four hours max. If more time must be allowed, bar hop. Nothing good comes from being in the same bar for an extended period of time. What does come is this...

Not too long ago, one of my girlfriends and I ended up staying at a bar for nine hours straight. Inevitably, we flirted with most of the inappropriate men that approached us (drunk does not mix well with questionable self-esteem). Just as the night was picking up, one of my beaus convinced the bartender to come out from behind the bar to “ice” me (for those unfamiliar, “icing” occurs when a person is surprised with a Smirnoff Ice and is then required to take a knee and chug said beverage - classy). Apparently, my icing talents are sexy because this same gentleman told me he would marry me...if I was brown.

A quick lesson for the guys reading this: Don't “ice” chicks - buy them a cocktail of their choice; and more importantly, don't tell them you wish they were brown (or any other color for that matter).

After I shook off Prince Charming and wiped the remnants of the luke warm bitch-drink off my face, I was caught off-guard by a convict. How did I know he had spent time perfecting his grip on bars of soap in the shower? His orange jumpsuit. OK - I'll give him the benefit of the doubt and say it was his Halloween costume (it happened to be October 31st). Fortunately for him, I was in a great mood having escaped my icing Indian (dot, not feather), and I was a bit more intoxicated.

Prisoner 69 (how creative) introduced himself to me with a mumbled “Let me buy you a drink.” Sadly, as it turned out, his offering was not an invitation to free alcohol. Instead, it became more of a “Come over here where I can trap and force you into a conversation you don’t want to have.” Wow, did he know me well - this was just as enticing as a drink. He stared me down with his rape eyes, and, clearly, the only way to alleviate the situation was to insult him. So, I made a comment on his Buccaneers bandanna (yes - he was wearing a bandanna - not part of his costume): “Why is it you don’t follow a real sports organization?”

Failing to deliver my insult with the proper bitchiness resulted in further bullshit-driven conversation, mostly, regarding football. All I remember of this conversation was muttering "Cowboys" with the hope that he had been gang raped by their O-line and didn’t want to talk anymore. So, one thing led to another, and I gave him my number (before you judge - drunk, remember?).

Of course, I completely forgot the number exchange, and it wasn't until he texted me (two nights later) that I was so pleasantly reminded. I knew it was him because I had him saved in my phone as "Bucs Convict :(" - yes, there was a sad face emoticon. At least drunk me was giving sober me a warning. Our text conversation progressed:
Bucs Convict :(: hey lily, it's brian. how r u?
Me: Oh hey, Brian, I'm doing well. You?
Bucs Convict :(: still hating on me for being a bucs fan?
Me: Haha, yeah, of course
Bucs Convict :(: lol but were not a threat to dallas lol
Me: Yeah yeah (Translation: I am embarrassed by your grammar.)
Bucs Convict :(: so do u work?? (Did you seriously just ask me that as your third question?)
Me: I you?
Bucs Convict :(: yeah I'm at work Now I'm a bad boy lol (Uhhh - OK? Please avoid "bad boy" talk as well as inappropriate capitalization.)
Me: Late night?
Bucs Convict :(: yeah 3-11 (Oh, maybe he’s a doctor?)
Me: What do you do? (Since we’re already crossing boundaries.)
Bucs Convict :(: I'm a janitor in a nursing home. what u do (...)
Me: Finicial services company 
Bucs Convict :(: that sounds like a good paying job (Who says that? Oh, yeah. The same guy who asks if you work as question three in “getting to know you.”)
Me: It pays the bills, haha
Bucs Convict :(: lol cool, so where are u usually free (He can't even put a complete sentence together. At this point I chose to stop responding.)
Bucs Convict :( (an hour later): hey lily guess u were busy before, well talk soon then goodnight
Bucs Convict :( (five days later): hey lily, how's it going, what are u up to tonight? and remember my friend who was talking with ur friend he wants to know if we can chill tonight, let me know, ttyl
Bucs Convict :( (ten days later): yo what's up u never respond to me from last week that's not cool, if I want i'll just erase it number then, ur FUCKED UP peace!!!!
Needless to say, I haven’t heard from him since. Was I a bitch for ignoring his texts? Maybe. Was he a bitch for not taking a hint and losing his shit via text? Absolutely. If, sitting at that bar for nine hours taught me anything, it was this: Avoid all men in bars who refuse to buy you a proper drink. I would take a roofie-colada over being iced or dealing with an illiterate, foul-mouthed janitor any day.

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