Somehow I Became That Dumb Bitch at the Bar and I Hate Myself

I recently became everything I hate. Have you ever gone to a bar or club or any sort of other social scene and met the girl who is absolutely no fun? She goes to bars etc. and any guy that tries to talk to her she just dismisses, as if it’s somehow an insult to her grandeur that anyone even fancies themselves good enough to speak to her. She has no fun, she just kind of sits there with this disinterested look on her face. She chats with her friends, texts, does whatever, but she never actually interacts with anyone at the bar other than the people she came with. And she seems to be determined to do just that.

I always thought these social places were set up for people to be social, not just with people they knew but with people they don’t know. I thought the entire idea of paying $5 for a beer that you could buy at a store for $.50 and drink in your house for free was that you were provided with an atmosphere to meet people and have fun with new and exciting people, not just sit there with the same tired group of hags you walked in with. But this girl doesn’t see it that way, she comes in with her friends, drinks with her friends and leaves with her friends, and any male that tries to interrupt that routine, be he Brad fucking Pitt himself, will be spurned and sent packing.

I never understood this girl. What makes you want to come to a social place, if you have no intention of being sociable? You could sit around with your friends and talk to just them at your house or at their house or your shitty two-bedroom apartment, whatever. But the other night – and I’ve come to realize a few other nights – I became that girl.

I got talked into going to some gay clubs in West Hollywood by a friend of mine who loves the cock. I don’t refer to him as gay because apparently there’s now this whole sub-genre of men who fuck other guys but don’t consider themselves gay. They’re “men who have sex with men,” whatever that means. That’s another subject for another day, so I digress. I met him for drinks at a club in West Hollywood (Weho as the locals call it, and I will too, not because I’m trying to sound cool or esoteric, but because it contains less letters, which means less time spent typing).

Inevitably he would start talking to guys, flirting and doing whatever men who have sex with men do, and the gay guy he was talking to would have a friend and I would basically just ignore him. Certainly I was being a terrible wingman, but I have no idea what to say to a man who wants to fuck me. I suppose I could start with, “So, I love pussy and there’s absolutely no way I’m going to fuck you or vice versa,” but I feel like that would be a tad curt and really no way to begin a conversation. Being a polite fellow, I just sort of sat there feeling out of place.

The worst part would happen when my friend would engage a guy who wasn’t with another guy because I would just sort of stand there or meander off into the distance, bewildered and looking lost and helpless, which is apparently just what the boys in Boystown are looking for. So I would get approached and approached and approached. The thing about gay guys in Weho – and I don’t really know very many gay guys outside of LA, so forgive me if I’m generalizing – is that they have very little tact or subtlety when going after the object of their affection. I’ve heard that guys can say some really fucked up shit to girls, but I can’t imagine even thinking, nevertheless verbalizing, some of the things that have been said to me by homosexual men trying to get into my pants.

But after getting home and sitting on the experience for a while, I started to realize that, really, I was the asshole. These clubs are where the gay guys come to hook up and meet new people and there I was just sitting there all alone, looking like I was having no fun and completely disinterested in anything anyone had to say. I didn’t want to even start a conversation for fear that I might lead them into thinking that I might somehow be interested, so I would just sort of ignore whoever was talking to me until he figured it out and went on his merry way. Who does that?

Girls, don’t think I’m empathizing because I’m not. If I had no intention of at least giving the gay men of West Hollywood a bit of conversation and an honest “I’m not interested,” I should’ve stayed my straight ass at home. My friend told me I should have at least parlayed some of the male attention I was getting into a couple free drinks, but I’ve always hated the girls who will take drinks off of guys they have no interest in talking to just for the free drinks. I, personally, would never buy a girl a drink at a bar and I feel like if any guy out there is stupid enough to offer he deserves what he gets. I would like to say in our defense, though ladies, there are so many girls who act just like I did that night in Weho, who sit around and look lonely and as if they’d like to have a conversation but if you actually approach them, dismiss you. So guys figure if we come bearing gifts, maybe we can appease the tiger.

Again, I’ve gotten off the topic at hand, so I digress. Why come to a bar if you don’t want to talk to other people? If you want to drink with your friends, do it at your house. If your friends all want to go out and you go along just because you want to be with them, maybe you should find a different group of friends who are antisocial losers like you. I’m not attempting to justify the behavior of some guys when they hit on a girl, because certainly I’ve experienced the worst of it and it’s not OK, but going out and not wanting to get hit on is like walking outside in a rainstorm and not wanting to get wet. It’s probably going to happen and you should really just be learn to deal.