I’m not a sociologist. In fact, I almost failed that class in college, but I report on what I see and what I saw lately was a classic male mating ritual around women at the bar.
Let me begin by saying that getting a table at a rooftop bar on a nice summer day, even for a group of girls, requires military-like precision. You do the awkward walk around, checking out if people are just chatting or snooping to see if they’re signing the bill. You stare at strangers, giving them the “eye” that says “boy it would nice if you left so I could sit down and enjoy my multiple beers in peace.”
Then, when someone finally does give up a table, it’s a mad dash to secure it. This can happen with one member from the group breaking from the pack to claim the table and screaming “TABLE!” out loud and rushing for it, letting a friend hold their drink. Or depending on your alcohol consumption, throwing yourself on the table while placing a licked finger on it and saying, “dibs, dibs, I called dibs,” rather loudly. It happens.
So now that you’re enjoying the table, at some point in the evening some guys will try to take it because the real estate value of that table has increased twofold. At this time, more drunk women are up on the roof so men need to have that table in order to increase the change that women will flock to them. Yes, it happens. And as available table and counter space for pitchers declines, men with tables become more attractive. It’s easy math.
And while enjoying a rooftop bar table with friends recently, two men approached our table and just sat down. I must have blacked out when I “invited them” to join us. Anyhow, while making little conversation, the alpha male cleaned his glasses, combed down his mustache hair (and no I don’t want a mustache ride) and proudly showed off his shirt that said, “Middle School, Class of 2003.”
Are you f*cing kidding me. You wear THAT out to a bar. Where there are women. THAT shirt, you had NOTHING else in your closet that wasn’t as pedophile creepy? Guess not. When I saw that, one thought enters my head, “To Catch A Predator.” He looked like one too.
He proceeded to let his wingman buddy sit there and stare at us, while the alpha finally entered into a friendly dialogue.
“I can tell [said to me] that you’re a cool chick.”
“F*ck yes I am! I’m the coolest chick you’re going to meet, who isn’t on pay-for sites online [am referring to adult material, Match.com does NOT apply].”
“I’d like to shake your hand.”
And he gave a weak handshake. P*ssy. Not even a cheap offer to kiss it? Weak.
His friend finally entered the conversation, getting up the courage to talk to us and said, “well we have a pitcher of beer coming.”
Free beer? I’m listening.
“I like guys who are givers,” I said as a joke.
Now the wingman REALLY gets interested in the conversation, obviously misreading what I was saying.
“I like women who are givers.”
Grossed out and getting the odd look from my friend, I realized we would have to sacrifice the table because a) I was not in the mood for banter and b) I needed to stop drinking beer and go get some food. So with a snort, I picked up my purse, looked the guy right in the eye and said….
“I bet you do and I’m sure the female givers you know take personal checks too.”
Thank you and goodnight!!!
What have you seen guys do at bars that makes you sick? Too much attention to Golden Tee? Or what have you had happen to you at bars that drives you insane, from girls or guys?
Fortunately, I don’t think this will be happening on my evening out with JohnBoy tomorrow. Very nervous. But it will be fine :)
