Minor Troubles and Killer Sandwiches

I love going out with my 20-year-old roommate, but her fake ID can only be used with discretion. There is one bar near NYU’s campus that had previously accepted her ID, so we decided to play it safe and go to this place that she knew she could get into with some of her friends. It’s a great deal: 20 bucks = all you can drink for 3 hours. She got lit the last time she was there because she forgot to eat dinner beforehand. Since I love to cook, I made us egg and cheese sandwiches for dinner before we went, to prevent any barfing that we could incur.

I walked through the door, evaluated the crowd, and decided that getting bourbon drunk would be the best thing that I could do for myself. Why? Well, I was clearly the only person in this bar who was legally allowed to drink. It was a preschool bar – SO MANY Yung’uns! Everywhere! It wasn’t a problem, or at least not as much of a problem as my pheromones. Living in the city, I have learned that my pheromones literally seek out a very specific sort of male species and convince him to stumble over to me, give me generic compliments, ask me to dance and eventually get brave enough to do something weird and unexpected-completely out of appropriate context- like pinch my ass or nibble on my ears. It’s fuckin’ disgusting! This particular male species plagues the streets of NYC, but is rarely found in Cincinnati. These guys are known as Guidos.

These guys behave this way toward A LOT of chicks, but when I’m out with friends, I get it more so than others, while they go off and meet nice, normal men. Why do I attract these greasy guys with man-boobs who are shorter than I am?! It’s fuckin’ horrible; if I could get a vaccine for it I would. They completely deter all other men that I might be interested in chatting up. They are far too touchy-feely, and more persistent than you can imagine. But, as always, I am far too nice.

I felt obligated to be at least cordial to Mr. Guido, as he was a friend of a friend. But goddamn! It was nothing less than harassment. I did, however, have the opportunity to write down some great examples of horrible game and my passive aggressive insults.
After I reached my saturation point of listening to his bullshit, I frankly said:

Me: You have really horrible game. I bet you’ve not gotten laid in so long.
G: Yo! Actually, I never have trouble meeting girls. I know what’s up with a lot of girls at Cornell…
M: Are they all also taller than you?

His BS continued, and I continued with my passive aggressive examples, even when he said:

G: Yo girl, why you gotta be like that? Why don’t you give me a compliment?
M: Okay. (with flat affect) You have a great personality.

Although he picked up on my sarcasm, he relentlessly asked me to dance four times. I refused the first 3 times, until finally I just decided to throw in the towel and suck it up for 60 seconds, then walk off. It was probably the worst 60 seconds of my month. He humped my legs like a fuckin’ dog and gave me the bad touch, which was doubly sucky. I was not amused.

As if it couldn’t get any worse, he followed me to the bar, and ASKED ME TO BUY HIM A BEER! What the fuck?! What guy does that? Not that I mind splitting tabs with guys, or that I even want or expect them to pay all the time (I like to be fair and reasonable). However, that’s in the case that I’m in the presence of a gentleman whose company I actually enjoy! I couldn’t tell this guy to fuck off, because his best friend is a cool dude and they were there together. Sucky.

This is how much of a deterrent Mr. Guido was: His cool friend invited me to smoke a blunt, and I denied it. Mostly because I wanted to chill with my roommate, but even if she had wanted to go home to bed, I still wouldn’t have smoked that blunt simply because I would have had to put up with this guy’s bullshit. I imagined that encounter to be akin to one of Dante’s circles of Hell.

I did end up having a great time drinking with my roommate – we chatted and it was super fun, so of course I had a good night! It just turned out to happened AFTER Mr. Guido left the bar.
HOWEVER, while roomie and I were getting more drinks at the bar, I overheard this total fuckstick talking about me! Get this:

A drunk guy walked up behind me at the bar. He was seriously no taller that my shoulder blade, malnourished and probably never seen a vagina in real life. I say this because I don’t think his voice had changed yet. Unaware that he was clearly audible to me, he shouted basically in my ear:

"Dude, Bro, we need to bounce. This bar is lame. See this chick, she is like, forty, yo!"

My jaw dropped. I was so pissed, that I grabbed that little twits wrist, looked him in the eye and said:

“EXCUSE ME?! COME HERE, YOUNGIN’!”

I was getting ready to be on him like white on rice, ready to give him a royal bitchfest.
This single gesture put the fear of God in him, and he jerked his wrist away and walked straight out of the bar! And rightfully so! He was, in reality, probably about 14 or 15.

I resent the fact that he said I look forty! I could just start my cougaring career now, I guess…

Shortly after this incident, we discovered that Mr. Guido forgot his umbrella, and decided to coincidently return to the bar for it right as we were leaving. He then felt the need to walk with us, at which point we had this conversation.

G: Yo I think you’re cute, and I want to get to know you.
M: Well thanks, but I’m getting ready to leave the city in a little over a week from now
G: Yo I can still get to know you. We can chill tomorrow!
M: I have class tomorrow.
G: I mean tomorrow night.
M: I have homework tomorrow night.
G: You can finish it and come chill with me.
M: Of what exactly does “Chillin’” consist?
G: Yo, you know…maybe dinna or sompthan?
M: I don’t know about “sompthan.” Sounds like you want to fuck me. I don’t fuck people that I’ve just met.
G: Well we can go out a couple times and I guarantee you will change your mind.
M: I’m not going to change my mind in a week.
G: I know you will.
M: I know that I will die a happy woman if I never in my life fuck you.
G: Okay, fine. Yo, this is where I’m out.

(He proceeded to walk down the next available side street, which was of course in the opposite direction of his place.)

My roommate and I came home, drunk, and made round two of egg sandwiches that tasted 20 times better than the first, as we chatted about life, love and the meaning of all things. It was awesome.