The Trouble with Dating Part II - Bars Are For Chugging, Not for Loving.
How do you like that title bitches? I'm a fucking genius.
Bars are the worst place in the world to pick up on women. Let me get this straight: I have to compete with army guys and/or frat boys, most of whom have more muscle than me but far less brainpower, ambition, or capability of independent thought, for women who have such low self-esteem that they can't even bring themselves to talk to somebody as great as me and choose to go home with the first goofball that buys them enough alcohol? Where do I sign?
I look better on paper than I do at a bar, only because I am capable of meaningful conversation, but not capable of shouting over crappy music from the likes of Dave Matthews Band or 50 Cent. Morons do better at bars because they can shout monosyllabic grunts and get the point across that they are idiots out for a lay.
Oh trust me, I've had plenty of offers to go home with women, not to mention being molested or kissed by random drunken sluts, but if she's dumb enough to do these things to me, a random guy, then what's stopping her from doing the same thing to other random guys, who are undoubtedly on a lower level than me? She picks me out of chance, not out of how great I could possibly be. Going home with somebody like that is just asking for an STD.
It took me a few years and some really bad experiences to gain this wisdom. Maybe you can learn from my stories and wisen up yourself. The names have been changed to protect the guilty. Screw the innocent.
1. Met a girl at a bar in Atlanta. Took her to a Falcons game on the lower level at the 20-yard-line for a first date. Second date involved dinner at Chili's and shooting pool since she likes pool halls. Turns out that she didn't think I spent enough on her on the second date, at least not compared to the first one which set me back a couple hundred. Last I heard, she was in New Mexico strung out on drugs.
I stayed away from the bar scene for a while after that, but then I met the Spent band, who became a family to me. And since the band is great, they have groupies, most of whom are single. As a result of the disasters that followed, I am now known as The Groupie Killer. I met every one of these single groupies at bars or bar-like settings, and every single one has been a catastrophe. I know more than a few of those groupies are reading this, so I'll keep everyone involved anonymous, mainly because I'd rather them not spend 20 mintues writing emails that take me 20 seconds to read and one second to delete.
2. Groupie #1 was cool for a while, but then she started dating this guy 15 years older than her who bought her a car. I know it's not child molestation, but that term jumps out at me whenever I think about the situation. She is either married to him or will be soon, but everybody knows that she's not marrying him out of love. Shows what she really wants out of life.
3. Groupie #2 was all over me one night and somehow got my number though I was too drunk to remember. She calls me a few days later, literally begs me to drive 45 minutes to see her, then acts bitchy to me the whole time and tries to leave when I'm not looking. Dumbass, you called me, I didn't even remember meeting you, so that shows how much interest I had.
4. Groupie #3 was at a show one night, and a few weeks later invites me up to her house after signing this contract stating she will only have sex with band members. She somehow decided that I was eligible, even though I was not in a band. I declined because that was completely hypocritical. Abstinence is abstinence, but making a deal like that is just trashy.
5. Groupie #4 was this piece of work:
Oh yeah, that's a nice rack, but what self-respecting woman wears something like that in public? I mean seriously, you can see her bra and her stomach. By public, I don't mean just at a bar, I mean the dinner I bought her that night at a sit-down restaurant. Also, she has three kids at home and will offer to put out if I buy her enough alcohol. Money for sex sounds like prostitution to me, and it looks like quite a few people have taken her up on that proposition.
So nowadays, when I go to see Spent play, or go to any bar for that matter, I won't put on my best clothes and try to talk to people, but instead I'll just wear something awful and hope that nobody talks to me. I've given up on the prospect that somebody as awesome as me is going to be single and looking at a bar, and in all honesty, going out has become that much more enjoyable.
Back to find an article that doesn't bash the bar scene...