The Circus of Life



After an extended hiatus, I have been asked to return to the world of blogging to try to dissect the impossible science of…………..the bar room hookup. I know it seems infantile and many who try to accomplish the feat fail because of self-fulfilling prophecy. Let’s get a couple things straight off the bat. If one goes to a bar one should expect people who also enjoy going to bars. I always find it ironic when someone wants to change a behavior that was once thought to be so admirable. When most people go to a bar, especially men, they try to do a “lap” and survey the surroundings. It is almost like doing reconnaissance work in the military. If you want to launch a successful campaign, you must be aware of your surroundings.
Those surroundings include things like male to female ratio, number of people total, attractive people, attractive single people, attractive single horny people, what entourages are present, big girl posse (I will explain later), drink specials, and of course music selection. Beauty is subjective so it is hard to really determine what looks “hot” to a specific person. I, and I assume others, like to work on a two number system. If a person is a “1” you would have sex with them. If a person is a “2” you would not. I know this comes off as primal, disgusting, and low (and believe me it is) but there must be a social hierarchy to try to eliminate “lesser” options. Bars are the ultimate microcosm of Darwinism. It is survival of the fittest. Notice I did not say the nicest, fairest, most honest, or most ambitious. Is it right that the aesthetic component of a person takes precedence over substance? No, but let’s face it; attractive people are universally more successful in life.
What is the driving force in trying to make a connection in a bar? Is it love? In my time on this planet I do not think I have met any individual who goes to a bar to find love. I’m not saying that love is not possible. It is just not probable under the circumstances. Most people just want to meet someone, hence the term “meet” market. The reason why I say bar relationships create a self-fulfilling prophecy of failure is because of the components of a bar. People at bars generally like to indulge in alcoholic beverages. It is cool to have a cocktail or two, but be aware that you are readily consuming depressants, which does not bode well for fostering positive interactions. Also, there is the inevitable Shrek complex. At night, people can look a certain way, but if you see that person in the day they may transform from a GQ cover model to the lovechild of a wookie and a duck-billed platypus. As a friend once said, “She looked good from a far, but she was far from looking good!”
There are some practices that I notice at bars that I feel necessary to include in my diatribe. The first is the Captain America routine. Basically what this entails is someone, usually female, grabbing a member of the opposite sex to assume to part of a girlfriend/boyfriend just to get a potential suitor off their back. What kind of a fucked up charade is that? I’d rather be told to go “fuck off” than to have my intelligence insulted by an act of artificial companionship.
The next practice I see, and it is more of a running joke is the pick up line. There is no such thing as a pick up line. People, men and women, usually can make up their minds about whether they would potentially take you home before you can even open your mouth. Pick up lines cannot change someone’s mind that much. The best pick up like is “Hello. How are you doing? Could I possible buy you a drink?” Cheesy pick up lines are fun to use, but how effective is “Want to grab a pizza and fuck? What, don’t like pizza?” It probably has the same effect as, “Fuck me if I am wrong, but is your name Helga?” Or my personal favorite, “How about you sit on my face and we just see where the night takes us?” I have been in moods where I have no desire to pursue actual companionship and just want to act like a dumbass and use those lines, but I have never said them in earnest. If you don’t give a fuck, use a cheesy line. You might even get a mercy smile out of it.
When I first started going to bars, I would always find myself amazed by guys who came off so cocky and brash hooking up with girls all the time. Why do assholes get laid all the time? I think I have come up with a thesis for this quandary. Assholes don’t give a fuck, therefore, their moral flexibility grants them a force field against rejection. Rejection is not fun. But if one can augment the reaction to said rejection the meaning isn’t that bad. The hubris of the asshole allows him to have an infinite amount of possibilities, and as any economist would tell you the chances for success in any market increase significantly the more you participate. The hubris of the asshole also works as an aphrodisiac for the psyche of the female of the species because the asshole is not like most guys. The feelings of doubt, insecurity, fear, tension, and awkwardness are not even options with the asshole. The asshole does not think he deserves female companionship. He knows it and he exudes it and everyone knows that confidence is a major turn-on.
Something else I noticed is the big girl posse. Basically what these people represent are those plus size ladies who work as bodyguards/friends/designated wingman/ cock blockers/ magic mirror. What I mean by magic mirror is that the big girl in the group (and there is always one) always makes those people around her look exponentially more attractive in comparison. Don’t get me wrong, I got love for the big girls. I am a big dude and I understand that all shapes and sizes need some love. My problem is when these females start developing the same arrogance of the asshole. I will give you an example. I went to a bar with my boy Brian and a group of girls were checking him out. If you are into the 6’4 blonde hair blue eyed surfer type I guess you might find him attractive. Well Brian wanted to make sure I was in on the act, and tried to see if any of the group of girls would be interested in me. It wasn’t bad enough that I was reduced to collateral damage in my friend’s booty call but then this jabba the hut impersonator had the audacity to give me the “fuck no” look. When I saw the disdain in this girls eyes when she looked at me I could not control it. I said , “AWW HELL TO THE NO!!” This funky, dirty, trifflin’, contact wearing, classless, heartless, designer imposter perfume wearing, sex and the city wannabe bitch had the nerve to disrespect me in public and not even know me. I had to let that cunt know what was up. I told her and the rest of the cast of “The Facts of Life” to go suck a dick. Was I out of line? Probably. Did she have the right to reject me? Yes. But there is a decorum about rejection that that bitch obviously did not realize. If a girl has a gunt (a combination between a gut and a cunt that forms one indistinguishable blob) they REALLY have no room to be choosy. I am not Tyson Beckford, but that bitch sure as hell wasn’t Heidi Klum. I see this all the time. Big girls thinking that they can absorb their friends sex appeal through osmosis. I don’t think so. The worst thing in the world is an arrogant big girl. I am not saying don’t have self-respect or confidence. All I am saying is let’s keep this shit semi-real. Those girls are basically a diversion to illuminate their friends. What is worse is when they try to dress like their friends with the thongs and the tight ass shoes. It looks like they are baking bread in their feet and ass. Ugh! If you ever run into one of these ladies and they try to form a protective circle around their friends walk up to them, ask, “Hey, do you like to dance?” If they say yes, say, “Good, why don’t you waddle your chunky monkey ass on somewhere and get to it so I can talk to your sexy friend.”
I will end by just reassessing the goal of the bar room hookup. If you go to a bar to hookup, that is what you are going to get………a hookup. Those people who are making out in a bar and exchanging various fluids have hit the zenith of romance for the evening. Those making out in a bar are probably just going to make out because if you are going to actually get laid you probably won’t be staying at a bar. Even if you do achieve the ever popular one night stand what have you achieved? A stranger has sampled your DNA. What do you say in the morning? “Thanks for swallowing my babies. Maybe I’ll call you sometime.” My best advice is if you go to a bar, go to have a couple of beers and a couple of laughs with friends. Finding companionship in a bar is hard and finding genuine compatibility is damn near impossible. But if you are going to brave the elements and explore the great beyond adhere to the motto of the American boy scout: be prepared my friend, be prepared.