Bar Hopping Off A Cliff
I’m socially awkward. I have the fashion sense of a 77 year old man suffering from severe dementia. I once ordered a large and small cheese fry together at Steak and Shake. I don’t belong in a college bar. Sure, I might belong in a bar where socially awkward men go to drink their life away, but I don’t belong in a college bar. I still go, but I have absolutely no idea why. I don’t belong.
While in theory, I go to bars to meet women; in practice, I do not. It’s not because I’m afraid of women. It’s because I like them so much that I don’t want to ever want to inflict them with the pain of having an awkward conversation with me. I mean, how in God’s name is it even possible to start a conversation with a woman at a bar? There is nothing that I can say that can possibly be attractive to a woman. If you want to be desirable to women in a bar you have to be desirable and sexy. I’m not sexy. The sexiest thing about me is that I am not listed on a sex offender registry.
For some reason, I occasionally go to bars and dance. I dance like a mentally and physically impaired porcupine. My dance moves are literally as attractive as genital warts. I’m not sure why I dance, but sometimes mistakenly think that it will help me with women. Sometimes drunk women will actually decide to grind with me. I immediately feel sympathetic with the poor women that do that. I often think things like:
“What happened in this poor woman’s life to lead her to this point?”
“Surely this girl can do better than me.”
“Call Me Maybe is a pop masterpiece.”
“Does she realize how socially retarded I am?”
“This is starting to get arousing.”
I then usually notice that I am saying all of these things out loud and the poor woman quickly realizes how socially retarded I am and quickly dances away.
I used to get bitter when I saw couples making out in a bar, but now I don’t find a problem with it. I think the bitterness goes away when you give up (accept yourself). Heck, I even clapped for a guy who was dry humping a running hand dryer at the bar last week. Most people might come down on a relationship like that drunk guy had with that hand dryer, but I for one accept relationships between humans and eco-friendly alternatives to paper towels.
I don’t hate myself. Some men just have the confidence that I do not have and they’re the guys that will always succeed in getting the real phone numbers from women. And that is fine. Those guys can pull off tank tops, shutter shades and Sperry’s. I don’t even know what shutter shades and Sperry’s are. I’ve pretty much given up on being sexy. I tried to go on a diet for a little while. My first goal was to give up soft drinks. A week later I convinced myself that drinking a Sunkist didn’t count as drinking a soft drink because it tasted like orange. And that pretty much sums up my life. But that’s okay, at least I can laugh about it.