Charming, but single

A journal in dates and drinks


All I needed to know about men, I learned going out on Friday

This is from last weekend. What can I say, I'm a busy girl and posting takes time.

 

I went out with the boys on Friday night. We hit up a downtown bar with a loud band, and while I enjoyed myself, I was well aware that I was the only female in the group.

 

Don't get me wrong, I can be just one of the guys. I like college football and basketball. I can acknowledge when a woman is beautiful. I drink beer.

 

I can hang.

 

But some nights, especially after I've attempted to curl my hair and eyelashes and am trying out new "Dehumidifying" hairspray, I don't want to be one of the boys. I want to be one of the girls. Or even one of the girls who hangs out with the boys. But definitely not one of the boys who grunts and checks out women.

 

Suffice it to say, I felt like one of the girls who was dying to not be the only one of the girls with the boys on Friday night.

 

First off, there was the parking. I did not realize the great lengths to which I go to park in spots close to bars that are well-lit and safe-looking. (Bonus points if they have an attendant.)

 

We were driving down the street when the Male Driver asked for parking suggestions. I motioned toward a bright, clean, half-full parking garage less than a block from the bar. He scoffed at the idea of paying $5 to park and continued up the street, where he squeezed his card behind a dumpster. I guess boys don't think about things like getting jumped by an attacker hiding behind a dumpster, which is why they think paying to park in a guarded garage is stupid. Must be nice.

 

I looked at my pointy boots with two-and-a-half inch heels and sighed. The boys took off to the bar while I trudged down the street two blocks and grumbled.

 

I finally caught up and we settled in at an outside table. It was only a touch chilly and I was enjoying a nice local brew when it all started.

 

I don't know if the boys just forgot that they had a woman with them or if they just didn't care, but they proceeded to critique every woman (and some of the guys) in the place. They even referred to one woman as looking like she was "rode hard and hung up wet," which is just harsh. She was looking pretty tired/strung out/messy, but come on.

 

Most annoying was one of the guys (who I do not know very well) who would say, "I would pay your bills" when he saw an attractive woman.

 

This is just tacky and really unattractive for several reasons:

 

  1. Cockiness is almost always a sign that a guy is generally an ass.
  2. Most women I know pay their own bills. (I know many who make more than their husbands or boyfriends.)
  3. You can't cuddle with a credit card.
  4. This isn't 1950. We have brains. (I'm going to put that on a T-shirt.)
  5. People who talk about how much money they have typically don't have that much. (The same goes for people who discuss their great talent in the sack or the degree to which they will treat you like a princess. People who HAVE a lot of money/sexual prowess/skill in treating a woman right don't have to sit around and talk about it, right?) (Although I guess the same could be said of people who talk about how "charming" they are. But I am charming. I am! I've charmed all of you!)

 

I rolled my eyes and tried to ignore this guy.

 

Then, there was this dude making out with a girl in the bar. When I say "making out," I mean, "sitting down licking a woman's neck while she straddled and dry humped him."

 

(Sidenote: Look, I'm not saying I've never kissed someone in a bar. It happens, you're drunk and you feel all lovey dovey, so you plant a kiss on someone. It's nice. But humping and neck licking is definitely not a barroom activity. Find a bedroom or a hotel room or a car or a living room or a hot tub or ANYWHERE BUT A BAR. Seriously. Leave me and my beer alone!)

 

So the dude being humped asks one of my male friends for a cigarette. And then someone says something to someone and before I know it The Humped Dude is yelling at my friends and I have no idea why.

 

My guy friends are mildly amused and I'm thoroughly mortified and a touch worried that someone's going to end up needing stitches. And then The Woman Previously Humping the Humped Dude tries to intervene and he pushes her and then they leave. The Humped Dude comes back later to apologize and to note that he has no problem with me. (Because I was losing sleep over this.) And when one of my friends accepts his apology and also apologizes for whatever it is that he did, The Humped Dude starts saying, "Dude, don't be that guy. Don't be rude to me, I'm apologizing."

 

I don't know exactly what happened, but for awhile The Humped Dude would walk by and kind of eyed my guyfriends. He eventually left alone, because I'm assuming the Woman Who Was Humping decided that she may not have had the self respect to avoiding humping someone in a bar, but she definitely had too much respect for herself to go home with a guy who pushes her around. (And amen to that, sister.)

 

My male friends' take on this? "Man what a loser. He couldn't score with a woman who was DRY HUMPING him in a bar!"

 

Shortly thereafter a crew of girls I knew showed up and I ended up joining them for some late-night French toast. (I'd been craving it since my conversation with B the night before.)

 

To recap what I learned about men from my night out with the guys:

 

  • Parking must be free.
  • Boobs are good.
  • Guys actually ARE looking for golddiggers.
  • Yelling over nothing in a bar is okay.
  • Apologizing is not.



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Charming, but single is 25 26 27(!), lives in the Southern part of the U.S.A. and likes both her drinks and her boys tall. E-mail (listed below) her and she may respond. You can also IM her in AIM/AOL. (If she ever remembers to sign on.)
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Former taglines of this blog: "A Journal in Dates and Drinks" and "A Dateless Journal of Drinking."




Those Particulars
Some Backstory
Memories of the Way We Were
Updates and Towel Snapping
One Year Wrap-Up
Just As She Is
An Open Letter to Myself
After 26 years, she HAS learned something
An Open Letter to the Men Who Message Me Through Match
Sharing a smoke



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