Debunking the Bar Myth

Sometimes it seems as though all I ever hear is my single friends complaining about how impossible it is to meet someone worth dating at a bar. Occasionally, I just nod along, listening to their rant about the bar scene. Other times, I try to respond with a hopeful "You'll find someone eventually!" But what I normally say to these friends is simple: you can meet people anywhere.

And that includes a bar.

I think bars get a bad rep. Sure, I have had less than delightful experiences at bars, many of which include being the recipient of unwanted affections or engaging in conversation with the annoying, over-inebriated stranger. However, to those who say that you can never meet anyone worth dating at a bar, I must ask this: do you go to bars? And subsequently, are you worth dating?

If you answered yes to the above questions, then all I ask is that you consider that perhaps if you frequent bars and are a decent, dateable human being, then there must be a chance that there are other people at bars just like you -- also decent and dateable. Shocking revelation, I know.

The thing is, it really is a matter of getting to know people as best as you can, given the circumstances and the location. Not all bars are created equal, of course, but ultimately, all you can do is strike up a conversation, learn a little bit about the other person, and give them a chance. So they might not end up being a potential match. So what? You're at a bar -- presumably with friends, as opposed to venturing out alone -- so go hang out with your friends and let it go.

At the same time, completely dismissing someone wanting to strike up a conversation based on bar-prejudice alone could mean missing out on someone interesting. For as many questionable interactions I've had with people at bars, I've had twice as many engaging and enjoyable ones. I've met some fun and interesting people at bars -- some of which I am still friends with today. TRUTH.

I think back to my favorite success story, which is not mine personally, but a friend's: we girls were out one night, and my friend ended up meeting a guy at a bar. Personally, I think the rest of us girls were doubtful about their interaction, considering the amount of alcohol flowing; however, something must have clicked between my friend and this guy. They exchanged numbers, went on a first date, and come to find out: he's a gentleman, a volunteer with the Boys & Girls Club, has a good job, and an apartment. Yes, people, he is the quintessential nice guy and my friend met him AT A BAR.

And that is not some sort of miracle. It can happen to you too. Give bars a chance. At the very least, you'll get a good cocktail out of it, right?

The Boyfriend Card Part Two: A Story

A few weeks ago, I went out to a bar with a group of girl friends on a Saturday night.  It was exactly what you’d expect: a night out in the pursuit of drinks and dancing – just us girls!

That usually doesn’t happen though. My friends and I have a tendency to make friends whenever we go out. Half the time, it’s as a result of us unashamedly asking for a seat at a table or pushing our way to the bar. The other half of the time, it’s probably just because a gaggle of girls ordering shots generally attracts some sort of attention. This night was no exception. As we chatted amongst each other at our table, having ordered a very embarrassingly named shot that required embarrassing methods for consumption, we unwittingly were the recipients of a quite a few glances, but also the attention of some guys. One such gentleman bravely approached my friends and I, and as I explained our drink decision, a faux-friendship was born. I say “faux-friendship” because it’s the kind of friendship that is great and provides lots of fun – but only for that evening.

And so, our new friend became an extension of our group for the evening, as did a few other guys who joined in our fun. As I talked with our new friend, I was confronted with that age-old question: “When do I tell this guy that I have a boyfriend?”

As we've gone over before, I knew that I could casually drop the boyfriend card into conversation, but I also realized that the boyfriend card, at this point in the night, was irrelevant. I was part of a group of girls – even if I was “taken”, my other friends weren’t, and thus, if finding a girl was this guy’s “goal” for the evening, talking with me, boyfriend or no boyfriend, didn’t matter because I was still his “in” with the other girls.

Sure, this guy was primarily focusing his flirtation toward me, but I did what any good wingwoman should do: bolster up her friends, and highlight the reasons they’re so great in an effort to deflect his misguided attention. The boyfriend card was a non-issue: I wasn’t getting drinks from this guy, and we were just having a conversation. Does everything need to be about hooking up?

We divided our time throughout the night, spending part as as we originally anticipated, shouting “woo” while waving our hands in the air like we just didn’t care, while spending the rest hanging out with our faux friends.

When one of our faux friends suggested heading to a different bar next door though, I faced an issue: my object of flirtation for the evening wanted to come with us. At first glance, this isn’t really an issue. Bars are open to the public; anyone can go. However, I knew that by inviting this guy to tag along with me and my friends I was suggesting to him that I wanted to spend more time with him because I was romantically interested. Essentially, the subtext would become the text. So this was the moment. I had to drop the boyfriend card so that this guy wouldn’t waste the rest of the night following me around under the guise that I was single, and ready to mingle. Right?

I tried hinting to him that it wasn’t worth it to come to the next bar. “We’re going to a total dive! If I wasn’t with my friends, I’d probably just go home and go to bed!” I surmised.

Didn’t work.

“We’ll probably have to wait in line, and by the time we get in, it’ll probably be closing!”

Also didn’t work.

In a last-ditch attempt, I did it. I threw the boyfriend card. I don’t remember exactly how I worded it; I just remember that it was extremely awkward and not at all organic to the conversation. Most likely, I said it like this, “I HAVE A BOYFRIEND.” Despite this ungraceful effort to be honest and not lead a nice guy on, I don’t think he even heard me, because he followed my friends and I to the next bar, where, he didn’t even end up getting in.

So moral of this story? Well, first of all, I don’t think blogs are necessarily conducive to sharing morals. But, for the sake of this rant, I will try to provide some moral perspective. I suppose I should have worked the “boyfriend card” into conversation earlier in the night. I think I was so desperate not to let the guy down, and distracted by my own efforts to play wingwoman that I failed to recognize that our faux friendship had expired shortly after he focused his attention on me alone.

It’s one of those weird dimensions that only exits in “bar land” – you can’t assume that everyone is hitting on you/interested in you, but you should also be aware that some people are there to meet someone and thus, may actually be hitting on you/interested in you. If you were to meet someone in a grocery store, you wouldn’t necessarily drop the boyfriend card amidst a discussion on whether to buy generic or brand-name peanut butter. You’re at the grocery store. However, when you’re at a bar and you meet someone, the expectations of conversations among people there are different:  knowing whether or not the person you’re talking to has a boyfriend/girlfriend does change things because the expectation of that conversation may be to see if you’re romantically compatible with the other person.
Sure, you could meet your next boyfriend/girlfriend at a grocery store, but you go to a grocery store with the intention to get just that: groceries. Not your future spouse. People go to bars to hang out, chill, have fun and dance (if you’re like me) – but it’s also frequently considered a place to meet people, and more commonly, meet someone you might want to date. Not every person I talk to is going to be someone who wants to date me (I’m great, sure, but not that great), but it does help to be sensitive to the fact that certain locales require a specific sort of social protocol. In this case, throwing the boyfriend card at the right time.

The Boyfriend Card

This is only semi-relevant to this blog post... If by wizard's chess you mean "flirting at bars" and if by normal chess you mean "talking to people" and if by "muggles" you mean you are in a relationship and by "wizards" you mean single people???
Did you get all of that?

Sometimes, I feel as though the bar scene is akin to that of a game of chess.  Now, I don’t actually know how to play chess, aside from very basic knowledge and a failed attempt at game play in middle school, but I at least know that in chess, your movements are entirely dependent and reactive to those of your opponent. You size up your opponent, try to calculate their next move, and in return, develop your own strategy in the process. And really, how much different is this then our interactions with each other at a bar? Not much –though, probably a lot less intellectual.

Once you’re locked into this flirtatious chess game with your new bar-friend of choice and you’ve determined that they want to check your mate*, what happens if – insert ominous music here – you have a boyfriend? Sure, you’re enjoying the exchange with your pseudo-new-friend and find the banter to be above par for a conversation noticeably under-the-influence, but you’re not exactly going to drop your current beau in lieu of a flirtation with little potential to exist outside of the two beers you’re sharing.

So that leads me to ask: when do you drop the boyfriend card? You know what I’m talking about – when do you bring up the fact that, yes, although you are reacting to his moves by flirting and smiling and laughing at all of his not-so-funny jokes, you actually are not interested in progressing form the bar to the bedroom? The way he's making his moves and playing the game -- touching your arm, making eye contact, complimenting to you -- suggests that you need to react with moves that continue the game-play without leading him on but also, without making him ditch you solely because you have a boyfriend.

You must tread lightly, my friend -- just as you can't move certain chess pieces at the beginning of the game, you can't just make the preemptive strike by bringing up the boyfriend. Not every guy who talks to a girl at a bar is trying to hit on her. And while it's pretty likely that this guy may be hitting on you, it's not a given. By moving the "boyfriend" piece at the beginning of the conversation, you run the risk of sounding pretentious and narcissistic. You're talking to someone who you, at this point, are getting along with, and run the risk of alienating. Some guys -- believe it or not -- will still talk to you even if you have a boyfriend, so start the game off with the boyfriend card, and you risk losing out on having a nice conversation with a nice person.

Okay, so you can’t open up the conversation with a good ol’ fashioned, “hey, nice to meet you. I have a boyfriend.” That much has been established. Yet, I’m fully aware that the further the conversation progresses, the more likely it is that the omission of your non-single-status could be an item of contention. Obviously, you want to be truthful, but you don't want to lead this guy on. He keeps moving closer to capturing your pawn, and lady, your pawn has already been captured.* 

Be subtle. Throw your boyfriend into the conversation in a subtle, yet gentle way. Everyone knows that, when you're at a bar, you run the risk of flirting with someone who already has a boyfriend/girlfriend, but that doesn't mean that they're solely out for some pirate's booty every night. Sure, there will be the occasional guy who forfeits the game as soon as he finds out you're already the object of someone else's affection, but who wants to continue to talk to those guys anyway? For the nice guys out there who are having a good time talking to you regardless, there's no reason to lead the poor chap on. If I'm talking about basketball with a guy, I'll slide in a boyfriend reference by saying, "Oh yeah, that's my boyfriend's favorite sport, even though I don't really like it much" or if we're talking about a particular place, I'll mention "yeah, my boyfriend loves that bar." It's not in-your-face, but it's enough to let the person know that, alas, at the end of the night, you'll be going home to someone else.

Ultimately, the point is not to sound so contrived. Hell, you're just having a conversation with another person. Be friendly, be nice, be you. When you're talking about yourself, inevitably, it happens that you bring up a friend or a family member, so just throw the boyfriend in there too. There have been times when I've mentioned that "I have a boyfriend" early on in the conversation and have been met with the response, "Oh, I wasn't trying to hit on you." Even if said guy wasn't actually trying to hit on me, I made the rest of what had been a good conversation awkward. I've since just tried to go with the flow. Next time you're out and chatting with a friendly fellow, just be sure that you're reading his moves and responding with the right ones -- yeah, you're taken, but you're not opposed to some more banter. After all, I'm at a bar to engage in fun conversations and have a good time. And aren't we all just people trying to have a good time?

 *Bad chess puns. Don't hate me.

** Unrelated asterisk -- don't throw the boyfriend card to get rid of guys you don't like. That's mean. You're above that.

Can I Buy You a Drink?

From 21st century master composer T-Pain

We're all familiar with the scenario: it's Saturday night, you're leaning over at the bar attempting to catch the bartender's attention and order yourself a vodka tonic. Teetering on your heels, your patience is being tested as you think, "What's a girl got to do to get a drink around here?" -- a cliché that, up until right now, had always seemed reserved for bad, fictional screenplays as opposed to real life.

This brief period of drinklessness, however, serves as the perfect opening for the fella or group of fellas standing right beside you at the bar, waiting for their own even-more-hopeless chance at getting a round of drinks. You’re all vying for the same thing and this, inevitably, leads to a new sense of camaraderie, and therefore, opportunity.

You know how it goes: girl starts walkin, guy starts gawkin, already standing next to you and starts talking. All of a sudden, you're engaged in a verbal tango, a tête-à-tête at the bar, and this once-stranger is now the subject of your weekend flirtation. As you and this no-longer stranger bond over shared observations of the scene, the bartender finally recognizes your lack of cocktails and points toward your new friend, implying he’s ready to make you some drinks. That’s when the once-stranger-now-friend turns to you and asks, “What are you having? Let me buy you a drink.”

Up until this point, it has all been so seamless and easy. Girl meets guy. Guy meets girl. Someone needs a drink and you’re both in the perfect location to get one. But is it okay to let your new friend pick up the tab? Should you embrace the generosity or stand firm in your feminist resolve? What does it all mean?

I have found myself in this exact situation too many times to count. Regardless of whether or not I’m single or in a relationship, I am never quite sure as to what the protocol is. There are so many different components that affect my acceptance or polite decline—all of which are scenario dependent and thus, dispelling any hope of issuing a standard “rule” as to how to handle the situation.

I’ll be honest—my first inclination is to accept the drink. I’m a girl on a budget and saving $10 on a cocktail sounds pretty appealing. However, I recognize that this might not always be the best course of action as there are implications and repercussions to an innocent “sure, I’ll take a vodka tonic.”

When I accept a drink from a guy, I usually offer good conversation (on top of our current one), some mild (harmless) flirtation and my phone number (if I’m single) in exchange. I like to think that this is a fair trade. When I’m out with my friends, I think nothing of buying them a drink or two because they’re offering me their company, I enjoy being with them and I know that my friends will do the same for me. Sure, it may be a bit naïve of me to think that a bit of witty banter and batting of the eyelashes is enough to satisfy my new friend after he has graciously bought me a beverage. But at the same time, to think that I would offer anything more than that is presumptuous on the part of the suitor.

Last Thursday night, I was the girl in this scenario, yet again. I was standing alone at the bar waiting to be served when the gentleman next to me offered to buy my drink. I had been waiting for my boyfriend and a few guy friends to meet me, so I politely turned the gentleman down, worried that accepting a drink from him meant that I was contracted to a certain amount of flirtation and interest. If I hadn’t been meeting a bunch of guys for drinks, would I have accepted the free drink? Perhaps. But the fact that I had a group of fellas joining me shortly felt a bit manipulative of me – I didn’t want this guy, stranger or not, to think that I was only paying him any attention in the hopes that I could get him to open his wallet up to me. In accepting a drink from him, I would've been implying a certain degree of interest in him, our conversation and continuing/committing to that conversation -- something that wasn't the case this time.

Ultimately, I think the whole situation comes down to circumstance and the person you meet. Are you being open and honest about your intentions? Are you both having a good time? The times when I do accept a drink from a guy (single or not single) are when I’m having a good time and we're both getting along. I’m clear about my intentions and give the guy realistic expectations about what’s going to happen post-drink. 

The times when I don’t accept a drink from a guy? If I don't feel any sort of vibe/chemistry and the conversation doesn't seem to go anywhere, then I'll decline. Obviously, you shouldn't accept a drink from anyone who makes you uncomfortable, seems pushy or offers it to you in a white van. And don't be that girl who accepts the free drink just to say that she got a free drink. 

At the end of the night, you want to make sure that you treated the opponent of your verbal-sparring match with integrity and respect, regardless of whether or not you were offered a drink. The whole point of going out is to have fun and meet good people. If you're lucky enough to be the recipient of someone's generosity, make sure to match it with a gracious thank you, and heck, treat them to a drink in return!

TMI on Thirsty Thursday

(from sheknows.com) -- Even dogs get thirsty on Thursday
And yes, I know this picture has nothing to do with the post

It feels as though every time I go to a bar, I come back with a story. True, sometimes that story is incredibly dull, other times that story is wildly amusing -- but on some occasions (and this one in particular), I come back with a story that leaves me contemplating the so-called progress of humanity. As I've claimed on multiple posts, I love talking and I love meeting new people; so when I'm at a bar, where people clamor about drink in hand and with considerably less social armor, I am more than willing to strike up a conversation with anyone who wishes to engage in one with me. Luckily not too often, this leaves me to be the victim of some bad pick-up line or a feeble attempt to get my phone number. However, I find that most of the time I have a new character to add to my increasingly lengthy and poorly-selling-future biography, preferably in some chapter called "Cocktails Are to Blame."

In my most recent bar escapade, I was engaging in what I like to believe is a national pastime called "Thirsty Thursday" -- a beloved tradition where working guys and girls let off some steam at a local watering hole on the wannabe-weekend-Thursday. My commitment to this activity waned as I graduated and found that waking up on Friday mornings at 7:30 was exponentially more painful after a few cocktails the night before; however, in the interest of the #YOLO movement, I've been trying to do my best to uphold a certain standard of "fun" in my life.

This week, I met up with a regular Thursday night companion of mine -- a close guy friend from high school who always makes me feel as though I'm ninety years old whenever I turn down his "going-out-to-bar" invites. I mentally prepared myself all day for this night out, so by the time 10PM came, I was already in my leather pants and 4-inch-heels, and armed with enough cash to get me suitably buzzed. Normally, when meeting my friend at the bar, I will text him "where are you," "are you in the bar yet," and other overtly insecure text messages to prevent the dreaded solo entrance and subsequent awkward search of my friend inside the bar. However, for whatever reason, that night, I didn't care that I was alone and decided to own my temporary loner status, standing at the corner of a bar with my beer in hand.

I did the usual scope-out/creeping of the bar -- I am always amused by the interactions among friend groups and guy/gal pick-ups. I try to get a sense of who's on a first date and who has been together for too long (easy to pick out if you see someone rolling their eyes at their companion and on their tenth drink). While doing this scan of the room, I was called out for being alone by a man standing close to me at the bar. With his slicked back hair and seedy smile, I tried not to stereotype, but I could sense that this was not the kind of guy who was going to ask me what my thoughts were on the current political climate and then compliment my feminist ethics. 

Instead, he asked me what I was doing -- presumably to find out if I was waiting for my boyfriend -- to which I responded, "standing at a bar." He used this opportunity to compliment me, telling me that I was doing a "good job," and I told him that "I have been training my entire life for this. Thank you." Our  brief interaction had caught the attention of another gentleman at the bar, who had noticed my accent, or, more accurately, lack thereof, prompting him to ask me if I was from around here. "Yes, why?" The more polite gentleman inched closer, probably to ol slick's dismay as my attention was diverted from his predictable lines.

In only a matter of minutes. the floodgates had been opened. I had been alone, unguarded and open to advances. My lack of companion acted as a signal to my solo male counterparts and they took this as an opportunity to become a part of a bar duo. 

Now, I understand that none of this is a particularly novel bar story. It is pretty typical, but I suppose where things began to stray from the norm came from what I found to be a surprisingly no-holds-barreds strategy on the part of these two "gentleman."

Case in point -- let's take a look at the opening fellow, whom we shall call "Slick." I found out, very quickly, that he was 31 and on the prowl. Not only that, but when I suggested that this night needed to get more exciting, either with a bar-fight or a dance-off, he willingly offered himself as a participant. He said that he wanted to be punched. I told him that I thought he definitely deserved a punch in the face, but, he not one to pick up on not-so-subtle-hints, went on to describe the length of his "member," claiming to be a part of the 9+ inch "club." Maybe it's just me, but when did this become normal conversational fodder? I have only been out of the dating game for a mere 4-5 months, and yet, it seems to me that discussing phallic measurements is something that should be reserved for not just a date, but maybe (generously) a third date, preferably as a joke (like "ha ha, jk, lol"). 

Slick was not yet done with his inappropriate conversation topics. At one point, even though my friend had added himself to this conversational mess (by the time my friend arrived at the bar, he was joining me and these two guys,) I ended up alone again with Slick beside me. He began to ask me a much-too-profound question for a Thursday night at a bar: "What do you want out of life?" I'm assuming he thought I'd respond by outlining a specific career choice, but instead, I told him that "I just want to be happy." He didn't like my answer, finding it far too ambiguous, so proceeded to tell me what he wanted out of life: "I want to be married with three kids - two boys and one girl." I'm pretty sure as he told me this he slurred his words. And you know what? That would have been okay... if he had stopped there. How he made the transition to this next comment, I don't even remember. I just remember being horrified. He then told me: "My ex-girlfriend is getting an abortion."

Yes, let that soak in for a minute. This complete stranger, who had already informed me of his supposed crotch measurements and life goals had just shared some extremely personal (and not even his OWN personal) information with me. I told him that "that's not something you share with a person you just met at a bar" and promptly ended that conversation. My friends, that is what we call: TMI (too much information). I don't know what about that serves the purpose of picking up a lady at a bar, but I can assure you, it doesn't work. It won't ever work. Do I have a label on my forehead that says, "Please have wildly inappropriate small talk with me. Reward: my phone number" -- (assuming my phone number actually could be considered a reward.)

I thought things might be better with Bachelor #2 -- we can call this gentleman "Peach," as he hails from Georgia and he had a bald head. He was incredibly nice and engaging. He had the banter thing down and even after I made the obligatory mention of my boyfriend, he still hung out with me and my guy friend for the remainder of the night -- something that is a rarity in the bar scene. Our small talk was seemingly harmless: the usual what do you do for work, what are you up to tonight, let's comment on things going on at the bar, etc. However, at some point, the conversation veered into "too personal" territory. As Peach and I began to discuss the concept of "one night stands," (he was not trying to invite me to one, for the record) he went on to tell me some details about his life that were a bit jarring -- I had only met this guy less than an hour ago. I found that he was 27 (okay), divorced (eh, that's still not a big deal), had a 7-year-old kid (ummm, still alright) and also had a vasectomy. What? Is it common for guys to share the status of their inner-man-tubes? Is that sort of thing supposed to come up in chit chat? And furthermore, why did I need to know this? How was this relevant to me? Oh yeah, relevant so that he could tell me that he wasn't sure he could actually have a one-night-stand with someone he just met because he doesn't like to wear condoms when engaging in intercourse and... well, I'm going to stop that right there for the sake of maintaining a PG-13 status for my blog, but I'm sure you can infer a few things about the rest of that conversation. So, COOL. Thanks for letting me know, Peach. Pertinent information and a lovely way to mark your memory in my mind for eternity. The fact that he later told me I was the prettiest girl at the bar did NOT, in any way shape or form, detract from my bewilderment at his sharing of these earlier facts. I. Just. Met. You.

Now, I tell you about these interactions, because I feel as though both prompt the question of WHY? If you're a single guy, I mean, I have to know -- why would anyone tell this to a single lady? Granted, these guys had both found out I had a boyfriend, so that was already off the table, but does that still even make it okay? If I hadn't disclosed my "taken" status, would they have told me these things? I don't see how sharing this information with me could have led these guys to believe that I would look upon them more favorably. Was it their attempt to turn me on? If anything, it turned me off... I may be turned off for years at this point and may have to re-consider any sort of nostalgia for my intermittent single lady days.

Should I just keep my mouth shut from now on or, if I choose to continue to engage in conversation with people at bars, should I realize that this might just have to be expected? 

Until next Thursday...