Dudes At The Bar Lower The Bar For All You Ugly People

As like with a majority of my life, this story begins with Bri and I at the club this past weekend. Now, just to clarify, I’m an impeccable wing bitch. I’ve been Bri’s active wing bitch for years and it works. This weekend, like most, I was doing my wing bitch duties. Only thing is, the more I was talking to this dude I was stuck with, the more I began thinking about how much I hate dudes at the bar. I’m not sure what happens when they walk through the door, but they’re not people anymore. They’re like sewer animals with brains made of bacon. Like an Epic Meal Time gone wrong. Only worse because they talk and they’re oozing with sleazy bullshit. Onward we go.

Now, I’ll touch upon guys in general but this dude I was stuck with was such a prime example of the shit you put up with in a wing bitch situation I have to elaborate. His friend was attractive, and he was mediocre. He just happened to be well-dressed and nicely put together. The thing about the friend in these scenarios is that they feel entitled. Like they’re doing you a favor by talking to you and buying you a drink. First of all, I’m 21 with a couple jobs and enough money to play around with. I don’t NEED you to buy me a drink and it’s unfortunate that you are under the assumption that the more booze you give me the easier I’ll be. Haha good lord that is funny – 2 vodka doubles please. Second of all, what? Do you like feel bad for me or something dude? Like yeah, my friend is talking to your hot friend, but to be honest, he’s her type, not mine. Not to mention that I have enough balls and good looks to get any dude in this club in my Kiss t-shirt. I am fully capable of striking up a conversation with someone on my own (as we’re in mid-conversation while I’m thinking this to myself, another fine gentleman steps in between us and buys me a drink and then walks away. THAT my friends is an ideal man). I don’t need you, or want you for that matter. But that’s the thing, this kid kept TELLING me I have a boyfriend, because according to Bri’s boy I was “stuck up”. And by stuck up, he means not fawning over every little thing he did. BRO, YOU’RE NOT FUCKING IMPRESSIVE. YOU BOUGHT ME A SOCO AND LIME. Anyway unbeknownst to Bri or her boy toy, this dude spent the entire portion of my time telling me about all this wonderful shit he did and how famous and awesome he was. I HATE this shit. Guys chalk themselves up like they fucking invented Ninja Turtles or Pizza Bites or something. Like, no dude. I don’t give a fuck what you do, I don’t give a fuck what you buy me, I don’t give a fuck how big your dick is. No matter what you tell me, I’m not giving you my number, leaving with you, and I’m not being polite. Why the fuck should I? You’re talking AT me about YOURSELF, like I impress easily. I’m not 13 and my myspace does NOT bring all the boys to the page. Fuck off. And stop telling your friend that I’m stuck up, because honestly, I would’ve probably slept with you if you talked about anything cool, actually anything other than how awesome your are. I wish I was a cat and could cough up hairballs on command. Oh ps – I ended up slapping this kid across the face and his “bodygaurd” aka his lover waiting off to the side aka not someone who actually worked at the club aka some fucktard who wore a track jacket to the club told me I had to leave. Leave where bro? VIP? Oh wait, no you broke ass fucks couldn’t afford that so I’ll just walk over to the other bar then. Goodnight.

But back to dudes as a whole. One of the things that drives me crazy is when dudes try to get your attention in the most idiotic ways. Like by talking about you, or just talking loudly in hopes that you’ll join the conversation. Excuse me, is this Mrs. Henderson’s Pre-K class? Should we talk loudly about our pet kitty cat in order to get her attention without striking up a conversation directly because our 4 year old minds are too underdeveloped to conceive polite conversation? Half the time I don’t even realize that they’re trying to do this until I hear something about the “stupid bitch brunette who wasn’t even that hot anyway”. Ugh what the fuck ever. Here’s something to try. Tap me on the shoulder, ask my name and fucking start a conversation. I have 3 split personalities and I can talk to them all night so I don’t need to put up with your childish bullshit. Go back to watching Nick Jr. and try again when you stop eating your cereal from a bowl with a built in straw.

Guys should learn to dress appropriately to the places they go out to. I’m a sucker for a nicely dressed dude. If you go to a club, don’t be a fucking slob. JORDAN’S DO NOT BELONG IN A CLUB. I’m sorry, they fucking don’t. It’s not 2002 anymore – people don’t throw spinning rims on their Escalades, throwback jerseys aren’t in and no one bumping “Pain Is Love” by Ja Rule to get laid, THEREFORE leave your fucking sneaker game at home. Get a nice button down shit. Fuck. Look like a grown ass man. If you’re at a bar, don’t over dress to look like a douche bag. No one wants the guy who looks like the CEO of Home Depot chillen at their townie bar, feeding quarters into the jukebox which hasn’t been changed since Now 6 came out. Girls have to deal with this shit; guys fucking should too. It doesn’t make you less manly. Fuck man. Would you rather get a girl or would you rather look like a fucking retard and spend the evening in your sausage packing huddle? “Haha, fuck that dude bro, he looks like a queer. I look awesome in this paint-stained Pabst shirt”. I don’t know, you can decide. I know who I’d prefer.

Then there are the dudes that follow you around. Oh, I’m sorry. Did we meet on E-harmony? Are we on a date right now? NO. You just choose to follow me around the entire place because we exchanged glances at the bar for .32 seconds because a girl with a shiny necklace caught my eye. Watch the fuck out because I’ll turn around and CAAA CAWWWWWW at you and make you look a whole shit load stupider than I will by doing so. Bids are conniving. We pick up on the fact you’re stalking us. You’re not incognito dude. You have a Mr. Roger’s come over and have your shirt buttoned up to your teeth. Pretty sure we know it’s you and there’s not 20 other dumb asses who look like you. At this point, I’ll grab the nearest friend and pretend to be a full blow lesbian clam licker just to get you the hell out of my personal space. Oh, and don’t be surprised when I tell the bouncer you followed me into the bathroom.

Point here is – guys, please just be normal when you go out. Look right for where you’re going and be polite and pleasant. I understand your hard on for the potential to get laid makes you act a little silly, but really, there are a lot of girls out there who are just looking for some decent conversation from a confident dude who isn’t a psycho, an idiot, a stalker, or so into himself that he probably fucks his hand better than any girl. You don’t have to be over the top impressive, especially to the hot girls. Guaranteed whatever cheesy pick up line or bullshit you feed us, we’ve heard it before. Have we ever met you before? No. So what is it about normal you that you like? Not what you think we would like. Actually, better yet, whatever you think would get you laid, just do the opposite. That’s how girls work. We’re just built to be confusing as fuck. And bids…for the love of Christ – YOU WILL NOT MEET THE MAN OF YOUR DREAMS AT THE BAR. BUY YOUR OWN FUCKING DRINKS FOR ONCE. AND LEARN TO APPROACH DUDES ON YOUR OWN; THEY CAN BE SHY. Fuck man, someone have a house party.

*2/10 guys ACTUALLY have followed a girl into the bathroom thinking he can persuade her to fuck him porno style with his suave, debonair charm