Emily has said it before, I'm going to just hang my head and echo her: I don't want to meet guys at the bar. This was confirmed last night.
(Actually during the course of last night I threw my hands up and absolved myself of guys forever and ever amen after yet another "haha--he's gay" joke was made. It's sad how those three words have come to define my life...or love life in a sense.)
First off, I adore Chrissy. She's one of my best friends and an amazing woman. Anyone that is out to hurt her is a dickhead who should be castrated...or something equally squeamish and icky.
Chrissy's going through a rough time and I feel really bad for her. I wish I could relate more, but I can't. But I try and I love her so Katie and I took her out last night to help get her out of her funk. We ended up at the Shamrock.
I hate--no no, loathe--the Shamrock. I find it to be a cramped meat market where drunken guys leer at girls and get hard-ons from the ones with biggest boobs and shortest skirts. In short, it's a Ho-factory. Not impressive.
It lived up to its reputation last night. It was 18 and over night, so there was no shortage of girls with ho-tendencies. While I have no problem with a little cleavage or a cute skirt, there is a line to be drawn. Most of these girls saw the line, laughed at it and then leapt over it to emerge looking like hookers. For real. And of course the guys all enjoyed it.
My new theory: guys are dicks who think with their dicks. At least if there's alcohol involved. I know maybe 3 (THREE!!!) guys who are still total sweethearts/nice guys when they're drinking. The other 99.789987% of the male population turn off their brains once they see boobs and beer.
One drunken Prince Charming was hitting on Katie hard-core. Katie kept edging closer...and closer...and closer to Chrissy and I as he kept trying to create an intimate enclosure by the bar. Finally Katie just darted onto the dance floor to escape him. He came back later, though, before he left and practically nuzzled Katie's neck with his rat-esque chin. I almost fell on the floor laughing.
I was just happy it wasn't me. Because if it was I still would have been laughing. I'm so uncomfortable around guys I don't know when I'm in the "bar scene." Katie says that I need to be a "playa" (her words, definitely not mine); so she's unofficially my "Playa Mentor." I don't know how much I want to, um, be a playa. Really, if I could find one decent guy, that'd be fabulous. I really can't see me playing a few guys.
Hell, I can't see myself playing one guy, really.
Maybe I'm just still highly uncomfortable with guys in general. I shouldn't be, but I'm beginning to think that I am. Or maybe it's just the idea of a relationship. I want more than sex, I want a connection, someone who knows me. I want what everyone wants deep down. The difference between most people and me is that I'm not about to flirt with ten different guys at a scuzzy bar in hopes of finding Mr. Right-Now. I demand the best and want nothing to do with horn-dogs out for instant gratification.
And I've finally realized I definitely won't find what I want at a bar.
Ciao, dahling!
~*Krissy*~
Livin' Out My RockStar Fantasy To: "Leave, Get Out" by JoJo
Crush du Jour: Meh.....caffeine
Happy Thought of the Moment: meeting cool new friends, karaoke tonight, celebration with Katie Geiter tonight, fun guestbook messages (thanks, guys!), realizing the above thingy, good novels, cleaning...kind of, blueberry pancakes, making people smile, hoop earrings, fun logo tshirts, comfy hoodies, dorky office moments, my dorky-cute glasses