I am notoriously forever running late, usually by about 15 minutes. It’s all part of my charm. As I’ve said before Sarah and I always intend on making happy hour but rarely do we succeed. The last few times we’ve attempted this feat we have failed miserably. There are a few too many costume changes, makeup/hair decisions and other adjustments that inevitably get made causing us to fall behind schedule. We always manage to pull ourselves together and look damn cute though: sometimes to the detriment of our dating sanity.
I had a Summer Friday recently, peaced out at exactly 3 o’clock, and headed home to make some last minute improvements to my outfit. Most of my ensemble was pretty much set though I still needed to accessorize and fix my face. I had decided on a cute short-sleeved sweatshirt top. Sweatshirt you say? Well, this particular version has a black lace overlay with an exposed zipper. This makes it the perfect combination of cute but casual. Since this was only for happy hour I just needed a quick touch up, lined my eyes, and put on Clinique’s Almost Lipstick in Black Honey. It looks a lot scarier in the tube but once you put it on (depending on how many layers) it can be somewhat sheer.
Not being in the mood for my usual towering heels (we were staying local aka walking) I ransacked my closet for flats. This was a bit tough because I don’t really have any black flats or sandals. Then as it so often happens the light bulb in my brain went off and I knew what to wear. My silver Stuart Weitzman pointy toe flats wound up as a great compliment to the light heather grey of my sweatshirt top. A silver bracelet, necklace, a few midi rings, and a deep side part finished off my happy hour look. I helped Sarah with a quick but adorable hairstyle and we were good to go.
On this particular outing we (once again) missed happy hour but checked out a cute wine bar in the neighborhood. The lovely Katherine met us there to grab a drink and give me her keys. I check on her people-hating cat Emmylou to make sure she’s still alive and to give her someone to hiss at. She loves me in her own way. Anyway, we had some nice wine and chatted as ladies do. Keys successfully exchanged Katherine retired for the evening and Sarah went to have a cigarette. While I held down the fort at the bar I noticed some girls attempting an “ussie”. I asked if they wanted me to take it for them and we started chatting. Hailey and her wife Jessica had just moved to NYC and had wanted to check out Crate & Barrel. Unfortunately they arrived after the store closed but decided to get a glass of wine instead and so there we all were.
We had such a nice time talking with Hailey and Jessica that eventually we headed out together for a change of scenery. Sarah had been talking to an older gentleman on her cigarette break that had told her about a place not too far from the wine bar. We figured it would be a back up plan if the drag bar Lips didn’t work out. None of us had been there and we were curious as to what the hubbub was all about. Of course on our way out we ran into Old Guy who reminded us about the aforementioned bar. Sarah let him know we would keep it mind and maybe we would see him there later. Off we went to Lips and were promptly greeted by a fabulous hostess who took our names down. While we waited we hit the bathroom and became increasingly impatient. The wait was way too long and honestly we just wanted another drink. Back up plan in action we were able to find seats at Old Guy’s bar of choice.
The bar looked cute, the décor was nice, and the drinks started flowing. We actually couldn’t find the bar at first and some random guy gave us directions. He told us to ask for a specific bartender so we sidled right up to the bar and said hi. Shy, delicate flowers we are not. Then at some point a Short Weird Guy wanted to let me know his friend wanted to talk to me. Uh yeah, what are we in middle school? I don’t think so pal. I informed him that we are in fact adults, if his friend wanted to converse he was going to have to put on his big boy pants and do it himself. Apparently, English was not Bad Pinstripe Suit’s first (or maybe even second) language so he needed a little help. He looked like a bad Eastern European version of Good Fellas. Seriously, I can’t make this shit up if I tried. Short Weird Guy interpreted my response with what I’m assuming was way less attitude because Pinstripe walked over and awkwardly attempted conversation. Whatever he said wasn’t worth remembering even in that moment so it was a pretty quick chat.
They left me alone and I had about a minute of peace before some other Heavily Accented Guy tried his hand at wooing me. More unimportant mind numbing conversation was had and I dismissed this guy. Sarah had also been occupied talking to a few lame guys at this point so neither one of us was doing particularly splendid that evening. Then yet another lovely fellow had to tell me how cute I am, my big eyes, and blah…blah…blah. He just was overplaying his hand and would not shut up. Then as most guys are hopeful that when they tell you they’re leaving you’ll just jump into their arms and hop into their bed. Sad Puppy let me know (more then once) he was about to head out and what was I doing. I charmingly told him I was still hanging out and would be going home ALONE.
The problem with guys like this is that sometimes the only way to get rid of them is to let them have your number then block them as soon as humanly possible. I turned to Sarah as soon as he left because my eyes would not stop rolling and I had to see if she had witnessed any of this. Within those 30 seconds Sad Puppy had texted me three times to tell me (again) how cute I am and had also called me. BLOCKED. Seriously?? How desperate are you? Guys, this is not the way to a ladies heart! Sincere compliments are awesome but we can tell when they’re not. This was just; well, it was just sad.
I wish I could tell you that this was the end of the evening but it’s not. There were also some free shots from the manager and the bartender. Then obviously Short Weird Guy had to come back for act two. I’m not sure how the conversation started or even why the words “I’m the man and as the woman you should listen to me” happened but they did. If you ever want to push my buttons and see me get all feminist and hulk smash on your ass now you know how. Oh Lord help him; I was PISSED (and drunk). My hand couldn’t emphasize by banging on the bar hard enough that “NOBODY AND I MEAN NOBODY TELLS ME WHAT TO DO!” I also promptly told him “I’M AN ADULT AND I MAKE MY OWN DECISIONS!” Then he thought it would be cute to ask what would happen if I was married. Would I cook and make dinner for my husband? HULK SMASH YOUR FACE ASSHAT. My response was as such “What happens when I come home from work and I’m hungry?” “Who the hell is cooking for me?” “HUH? HUH?” Short Weird Guy started to look a little concerned but kept going anyway. I don’t even recall hearing anything else that came out of his mouth and I couldn’t have cared less. I told him he could “GO FUCK HIMSELF” and that this conversation was over. At this point I just swiveled my ass around and ignored his chauvinistic existence.
To make matters worse Sarah went back outside to have a cigarette and I might have threatened her life if she didn’t come back. I thought I had successfully evaded any further advances with my abrasive performance but no dice. FOR REALS. Heavily Accented Guy decided to try his luck again by telling me he was sorry about his friends. What in the actual fuck. You know Short Weird Guy? Get the FUCK out of my face right now-end quote. Thankfully this bonehead was able to pick up on my outward hostility and get out while he was still breathing.
Fortunately for me Sarah came back inside and had the same urgent need to get us out of there. NEVER AGAIN.
Kids, this is not the end of the story.
Epilogue: This past Friday we decided to hit up the wine bar again because why not? Guess who was there…just guess. Yep, Heavily Accented Guy. And of course, OF COURSE he recognized us. Turns out he is a moron and didn’t exactly remember much of the conversation. The icing on this very fucked up cake is that Short Weird Guy OWNS THE BAR. Moral of the story? I don’t give a shit who you are; if you piss me off I will cut you (ok, not actually cut you but you know what i mean).